


The Dark Gift.

by staringatthesky



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Canon Compliant, Drama, Family, Gen, POV Male Character, character history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 00:11:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staringatthesky/pseuds/staringatthesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because sometimes the creed of 'first do no harm' is not so simple to follow. Carlisle strives to live in the light, but twice before he has bitten a human and given the dark gift of immortality. This is the story of the third time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Charity Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N – I know I said I’d do a Rosalie POV of Breaking Dawn, and I do promise I’ll get to it! I was also asked if I’d consider doing something with Carlisle, and what it was like when he found and turned Rosalie, and that idea intrigued me.   
> I love Carlisle’s character, I love the history that he’s lived through, I love that he has so much goodness and wisdom inside him, and I love the fact that he did the impossible and turned ‘vegetarian’ without help and without even knowing that it could be done! But there’s also the darker side to Carlisle…the fact that despite all he is and all he believes, he changed humans into vampires.  
> I wanted to see what I could do with that, so this story is me playing with Carlisle and trying to get into the head of the good doctor and see what he was thinking when he took a dying Rosalie and thought making her one of them was a good idea. Because I like all my stories to fit together I’ve taken Chapter 2 from my World Of Shadows fic as the basis for this, which is Rosalie’s memories of her change. This won’t be really long, but I guess I’ll see how I go with it.  
> One warning- this story deals with the aftermath of Rosalie’s rape and assault, and as such will have details of her injuries and her reactions to what happened to her.

“Carlisle, let me do that for you.”

Esme, already dressed in her dark green formal gown, comes across the room to me and reaches for my tie with a smile, beginning the process of knotting it.

“My love, I’ve been tying ties almost since they were invented,” I point out to Esme teasingly. “I think I can probably manage.”

Esme’s golden eyes are bright. “Perhaps so dear, but you wouldn’t deny me the pleasure of doing it for you now, would you?” Her hands, finished with the bow tie, run caressingly down the front of my dress shirt.

I catch her fingers up in my hands, bringing her fingers to my mouth and kissing them. “Indeed I wouldn’t. And may I say how beautiful you’re looking tonight?”

“Thank you,” Esme smiles, patting a stray caramel coloured curl back into place. “We should be going now though. Edward is waiting downstairs.”

As he hears our tread on the stairs, Edward rises to his feet. He wears evening dress well, and Esme has even succeeded in taming his unruly hair for the evening. If he wasn’t scowling at us he would look older than his seventeen years. Not that Edward is exactly seventeen…

“I still don’t see why I have to go,” he says, almost belligerently.

“Because you were invited,” Esme says calmly.

Edward rolls his eyes. “No, _you_ were invited because Carlisle donated money...”

“And you were invited too because they needed more young men,” Esme says sweetly, brushing imaginary lint off Edward’s jacket. “It won’t hurt you to go out for an evening and have some fun, and I’m sure the girls will appreciate having someone as lovely as you to dance with.”

“It’s completely hypocritical,” Edward protests. “The Rochester Charitable Foundation…I’m sorry Esme, I know you’ve been involved with the committee, but it’s ridiculous! It’s not about charity at all! The amount of money they’ve spent on this ball tonight could supply food baskets to the needy for a year. Add in the money that the city’s leading lights will have spent on gowns and jewels, and we’d eliminate poverty in the city completely.”

“Well, aren’t you being quite the revolutionary tonight,” Esme teases with a laugh, not in the least offended. Edward is not saying anything she has not fretted over in private with me.

Edward makes a face and I chuckle, because in all honesty I’m not that excited about going tonight myself. But Esme has been involved with the committee and I donated a considerable sum and the invitation was given, so accepting it was the only polite thing to do. And I know that Esme wants to go. For the most part she’s happy with our quiet life, but from time to time she enjoys going out in society and I would never deny her something that gives her pleasure.

Edward drives us to the Stratford-Banks home, as they are hosting this evening’s ball. Rather than hand the car over to one of the valets he parks it a little way down the street, where it will be available to leave in a moment should we need it, and the three of us walk towards the large, lit up house.

Just as we reach the gates a large, dark limousine pulls up and a chauffeur jumps out immediately to open the rear doors. I recognise the man who steps out although I know him only slightly- Royce King, one of the most prominent and influential businessmen in the town. He doesn’t look around as he reaches back into the automobile and helps his wife out, a thin woman almost lost in her elaborate beaded gown and the heavy ropes of pearls around her neck.

The son follows her out of the limousine. He is a handsome man, but there is something about him that unsettles me as he looks back into the car, bending his head to speak to someone still inside. There is a certain look of avarice in his eyes as he takes the slender pale hand in his and draws his fiancée out to stand beside him.

I recognise the girl too. Rosalie Hale, the daughter of the man I use for some of my banking needs. Young lady I suppose I should say, for she’s certainly dressed up as elegantly as anyone else this evening, in a blue silky dress that leaves most of her back bare until she drapes a matching wrap over her arms and smiles up at the son as he leads her up the path. I very seldom notice the attractiveness or otherwise of humans anymore, but there is something about this blonde girl’s beauty that draws every eye, even mine.

I glance across at Edward, but his eye passes over her without interest as he takes in the limousine and the other cars crowding the road. I know Esme worries about him being alone and wishes he had a mate and lover of his own, but sometimes I wonder if that is what Edward wants. He was only seventeen when he was changed and perhaps not ready for that part of life, as in all the years I have known him he has not talked of the issue. He has shown no inclination towards any of the female vampires we have met during our years together, and as I watch his attention move towards the cars as opposed to the many beautiful ladies around us I wonder if Esme’s romantic heart will ever see Edward in love.

We follow the King family inside and wait patiently as they are greeted by our hosts and have their photographs taken for the society pages of the newspaper. Esme holds my arm a little more tightly and I look down at her, seeing her frowning at the younger Royce King as he holds Rosalie’s arm possessively and they smile for the camera.

“I don’t like that man,” she murmurs to me, and I raise my eyebrows, a little surprised at the intensity of her tone.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s something about him,” she says uneasily. “I can’t explain it Carlisle, but the way he looks at women…it’s disturbing. I’ve seen him at other social events, and we had a committee meeting at Evelyn King’s home one day and he was there, and although he’s always behaved faultlessly I can’t escape my feeling that there is something else there, something almost frightening.”

Edward has been listening to Esme, and as he looks across at Royce King Junior his lip curls. “Well, all he’s thinking about now is groping the girl he’s with,” he says lightly, making a face. “Ugh, I wish I hadn’t looked in on that particular train of thought!”

I laugh a little, but it’s our turn in the receiving line then and we greet our hosts as they welcome us. Elizabeth Stratford-Banks makes a special point to make a fuss over Edward and beg him to dance with some of the younger girls who will no doubt be feeling shy. Edward agrees and is led away, sending a rueful grimace in my direction. I take Esme in my arms and we move on to the dance floor too.

It’s a pleasant evening. The music is good and I always enjoy dancing with my beautiful wife. Esme and I tend to keep our distance from Rochester society, but in some ways it’s a small community and we are acquainted with many of the people at the benefit ball so there are plenty of people to talk with as we move about the room. Edward dances gallantly with some of the younger girls, most of whom look blushingly thrilled to be with him. Esme has her fair share of offers too, and I encourage her to enjoy herself.

Esme is dancing with Dr Travers, the senior doctor at my practice, and I have stepped into the quiet conservatory and am taking a brief moment alone when Rosalie catches my attention again. I had seen her dancing earlier of course, I don’t think anyone was oblivious to the captivating sight of the pretty girl laughing as she whirled around the dance floor with one of the Stratford-Banks boys, but as I stand in the shadows of the conservatory and see her stumbling in from the garden she looks anything but happy.

If anything Rosalie looks afraid, her eyes wide and her breath coming fast as she drops into a chair and buries her face in her hands for a moment. Deep in the shadows she would be almost hidden from human eyes, but with vampire sight I can see her quite clearly as shakes silently. As I watch her she raises her head and looks down at her bare arm, and following the line of her gaze I can clearly see the dark imprint of a hand on her pale skin. Flaring my nostrils I can smell the blood pooling under the skin as the bruise darkens. Rosalie touches it, her lip trembling, but just as I am about to go to her and offer assistance there is a noise and a trio of giggling girls step into the conservatory, holding hands and talking in high, happy squeals in that way that excited young girls do.

One of them sees a flash of blonde hair from the corner and peers in curiously. “Rosalie? Is that you?”

It is as though a mask drops into place as Rosalie rises to her feet and comes out from the shadows, her face glowing with a brilliant smile as she, apparently, carelessly, slings her wrap around her arms to hide the marks. “Girls! You found me!” she cries gaily, as the four of them rush together.

“Oh, what have you been doing? You look beautiful tonight Rosie!”

No one would ever guess that a moment ago she was huddled nearly in tears as Rosalie hugs and kisses her friends, not even flinching when one of them takes her by the arm in a manner that I know must hurt her. “I’ve been outside with Royce,” she says, and her eyes glitter even as she trills a laugh. “Now you must excuse me, I need to go to the ladies room and freshen up.” I cannot help but muse on her inner strength as she tosses her head and glides away through the crowd, smiling and nodding and even blowing a kiss back to her girlfriends.

Esme brushes past her as she comes into the conservatory in search of me, and I feel my smile widen at the sight of my wife. She is beautiful, and as I step forward to meet her I once again bless the fates that guided her here to my hands.

“Hello my love,” I say tenderly, brushing her cheeks with a kiss, ignoring the light giggles of the girls who are still nearby.

Esme smiles at me. “What are you doing hiding here in the shadows?” she scolds teasingly. “Shouldn’t you be out there making friends and influencing people?”

Before I can answer there are heavy footfalls and Royce King strides in from the garden, his son trailing sulkily behind him. He looks angry, but seeing me he smooths his face down and nods in a friendly enough fashion.

“Dr Cullen, Mrs Cullen,” he says. “Good evening.”

“Good evening,” I reply.

“You’ve met my son?” he says gruffly. “Royce, this is Dr and Mrs Cullen. Dr Cullen is in partnership with Dr Travers now.”

I shake the young man’s hand and murmur a greeting, but I can feel Esme’s unease and remembering the distress of the Hale girl I am inclined to believe her that there is something disturbing about this man. But he shakes my hand firmly and the eyes on me are bland and clear.

“I’m going to find Rosalie,” he mutters to his father once he drops my hand, and with a nod to me his father follows him. The young girls trip after the two of them.

Much to my surprise Esme shivers, and then looks at me with an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry. You’ll think me silly, I’m sure, but he reminds me of…of my ex-husband.” Her voice falters and her eyes drop. We do not speak of Esme’s former husband, not because I suffer from any feelings of jealousy but simply because she does not like to be reminded of such an unhappy time in her life.

“It’s fine,” I trace my hand down over her rounded cheek. “I would never think you silly…truth be, I find him unpleasant also.”

I don’t tell her about what I saw of Royce’s fiancée and the bruises I believe he left on her arm. I don’t want to raise any more old and upsetting memories for Esme, and I don’t wish to distress her with situations we can do nothing about. While I would not see a human suffer when I could do something to assist them, unless Rosalie herself were to ask for help in this situation I am helpless.

“Come on,” I say to Esme with a smile, pushing all those unhappy thoughts away. “I can hear that they’re playing some music that is more my style…will you dance with me?”


	2. Saving a Life

I smell the blood long before I see her.

I’m walking through the town, enjoying the peace of the cold and deserted streets as I make my way home from the hospital when I first catch the scent, heavy and seductive as the breeze blows across my face. I pause, a frown flickering across my face as the scent comes again, stronger now. It’s not unheard of to smell blood in the streets – a fight between two men, a child falling and skinning their knees – but this is too strong, too much…someone is hurt, badly. I increase my pace and follow the scent until I am standing in the mouth of a dark and empty alleyway. Empty except for _her._

She is little more than a pale shape on the icy stones, but as I speed towards her the story of what has happened here is made horrifyingly clear. The girl is naked, covered in the blood that is dripping from her nose and mouth and head and running down her thighs. I run my hands as gently as possible across her body, cataloguing and assessing her injuries with my sensitive fingertips. I will need lights to examine the mess they’ve left between her legs and I don’t touch her there, but I can feel the ruptured spleen bleeding into her belly, the cracked ribs, the fractures in her wrist and cheekbone and jaw. Perhaps most damaging is the fracture to her skull, a crack I can feel on the right occipital that is bleeding freely out on to the stones, but is no doubt also causing a dangerous bleed into her brain. Between this and the bleeding into her belly the girl needs surgery immediately if she is to have any hope of survival.

I have lifted her head slightly to touch the injury to her skull, and I realise that the long swathes of hair flowing across the stones are blonde, not dark as I first assumed. The dark is only where they have been soaked with blood…she whimpers and I look down into the one blue eye she can open in her battered face and I realise that I know this girl. It is Rosalie Hale.

“What have they done to you? Oh Rosalie, Rosalie child…such brutality…” I know what they have done to her. Below the scent of blood I can smell them, the five men who have committed this atrocity, and for almost the first time in my long life I feel such rage that I could kill without even a twinge of conscience. If those men were here I would tear them limb from limb without pause for what they have done to this pretty, innocent girl and I would feel nothing but a savage joy in their pain and the righteous glow of retribution.

Rosalie sighs, a breath of hopelessness into the darkness. I both hear and feel under my hands her heartbeat slowing. She has lost too much blood for her body to function and her organs are beginning to shut down. I realise with the knowledge of long experience that this girl is dying, that even if I use all my vampire speed to take her to the hospital there is nothing the surgeons can do with their human hands and limited skills to save her now.

_No! I cannot see it happen!_

I have seen so many people die over the years. I have held their hands as they took their last breaths and their hearts faltered into silence. I have closed the eyes of men, women and children of all ages and commended their souls to God as their spirits left the flesh, and yet somehow I cannot bear to do so here. With no plan in mind save a desperate feeling that I cannot allow death to take this girl now, I gather her in to my arms and whisper an apology as I whisk her home.

I hurt her, I know that. I feel the broken ribs shift as I take her weight and hold her cradled like a baby, and she opens her mouth in a scream that she hasn’t the strength to give voice to as her eyes roll back and she slips into unconsciousness.

  _That’s right Rosalie, close your eyes, I’m taking you home to Esme…you won’t die tonight, not like this…_

I reach home in record time but there is no one else there. There is only me, and the weak, slow heartbeat of the broken girl I lay gently down on the table, and the sound of it pounds in my head like a drum as I stare at her. She is almost unrecognisable as the beautiful, laughing girl we saw at the dance only weeks ago, beaten and battered as she is now. As I watch her body stiffens and seizes as the bleeding into her skull puts too much pressure on her brain, and I know I have only moments now to decide.

_Esme! I wish you were here to help me choose…but I can’t see her die. Not like this, not as a result of such brutality…I cannot let those monsters end a life that shone so brightly!_

With the sudden fire of decision I am at her side in an instant and, without any further hesitation, I bend low over her and as gently as possible tilt her head to expose the long slender neck. I press my lips against her fragile human skin with my dark lover’s kiss…and I bite.

Again and again I bite; her neck, her wrists, her ankles, the inside of her elbows and her thighs, my body shuddering with the ecstasy and torment of what I am doing. This is the third time I have done this, the third time I have sought to give this dark gift, and it is not any easier this time. If anything it is harder as the hot, vital blood of this healthy young woman pools in my mouth and the taste of it dances on my tongue and all my instincts scream at me to bite and suck and swallow, gratify the burning longing that flames throughout my body. But I resist, doggedly biting, letting venom seep from my mouth and into the wounds, venom that is the only thing that can save this girl from death now.

Finally, it is done.

For a moment it is as though time stands still and in the silence I stand upright, as covered in blood as the girl, and look at her motionless body. For a moment I wonder if her heart stopped as I was in my frenzy of biting and I was too late. But no…I can hear it, faint and slow, and then in front of my eyes the girl’s body stiffens as the burning begins and she opens her mouth and screams.

Oh, the noise! The high pitched, tormented scream of a body in agony! I groan and hide my face in my hands for a moment as I listen to it, and it cuts into my soul like a knife. After everything she has already endured this night, to now go through the burning of transformation…

“I’m sorry Rosalie. I know how much this hurts. Hold on my dear, hold on.” There is no indication she hears me as her face contorts with her screaming.

There is too much blood. I need it gone before Esme and Edward return. _Oh, what will they think of what I have done?_ I go to the laundry and fetch a bucket of cold water and a cloth, and bring it back to bathe the girl and remove the blood that has coloured her skin and hair crimson. I am as gentle as I am thorough, but I know it makes no difference. The girl continues to scream, twisting weakly under my hands, her throat already sounding hoarse and raw.

I see more evidence of what they did to her as the blood and dirt is washed away, and my vampire heart aches for her. The bites on her skin are not all mine- vampires are not the only monsters in the world, and this girl has known too much tonight.

Finally she is clean, and I take the blood stained cloths outside to the incinerator and throw them in, pouring gasoline on top and flicking in a match to watch them burn. Removing my own blood stained clothes I toss them in on top and for a moment stare at the dancing flames with my mind blank, until the faint screams from the house remind me of my responsibilities.

In my room I dress hastily, and after a moment’s consideration I take one of my shirts from the closet, intending to dress Rosalie. I would prefer something more appropriate for her, but she is taller and curvier than Esme and I doubt any of her dresses would fit. I can’t leave her lying naked though, and the shirt will cover what ought to be covered before Edward gets back. It wouldn’t be right for him to see her as she is.

Esme is standing in the living room when I reach it again, her mouth open in shock as she stares down at the bruised and beaten figure on the table. The face she raises to me is twisted in sympathetic pain. “Oh, the poor girl!”

I am glad to see her and I embrace her briefly, finding comfort in her loving arms and soft kisses. “Carlisle,” she whispers, staring past me again. “What happened? Is that Rosalie Hale?”

I nod wearily, and hand her the shirt. “Please help me dress her, and I’ll explain.” Together Esme and I lift the body and wrap the shirt around it, buttoning it down the front. I see Esme taking in the bruises and injuries, and I notice her shudder as she pulls the long tails of the shirt down over Rosalie’s thighs and she sees what has been done to her. Rosalie struggles weakly against us, moaning, and then begins to scream again but she has no strength left and the noise doesn’t last long. Soon she is quiet, although her body twitches and shudders and ripples with the agonies tearing through it.

“Who did this?” Esme asks quietly, stroking the long golden hair, smoothing out the tangled waves.

“I don’t know,” I answer. “I found her like this, on the ground in an alley. All I know is that there were five of them…and by God if I could get my hands on them!” I take a deep breath to quiet the unfamiliar feelings of violence welling up inside me, and then drop my face into my hands. “She was dying Esme. I was going to take her to the hospital, but it would have been useless- she would not have lived long enough for surgery.”

Esme’s hand on my shoulder is strong and reassuring. “She is lucky then that you found her.”

Lucky? I don’t think so, not as I look at the young girl’s suffering. She moans and tosses her head in agitation, and then as I gather her up in my arms to carry her upstairs she finds her voice and screams again, long and spine chillingly. I can do nothing though but lay her gently in the spare bed and sit with her, holding her hands and talking to her just in case she can hear me.

Esme comes in and out but says little. She stays when it is very bad, and stands beside me as I bury my face in her breasts and shudder with the horror of what I have seen and done here with this girl.

“How much longer?” she asks quietly.

“Two more days.”

“Are you sure you’ve done the right thing?”

Her voice holds no judgement, but it is a long time before I can choke out my answer. “No.”

How can I be sure I’ve done the right thing as I watch the excruciating suffering Rosalie is undergoing? How can I believe it is right as she screams and arches her back in a fit of torment? How can I know that Rosalie will want the dark gift I have given her?

Esme drives to town and comes back with clothes for Rosalie. I go down to meet her, seeing the anxious look on her face as she takes the packages from the car.

“They’re searching for her,” she tells me quietly, not wanting Rosalie to hear this and not knowing how acute her hearing is now. “Her family, her fiance’s family, the police…oh, the whole town is in an uproar over her disappearance!”

I frown, but spread my hands helplessly. “I suppose I knew they would be.”

Esme tries to smile. “I’m sure it will be well, but we shall have to be so careful Carlisle. This will not be like it was when it was Edward or I.”

It is already not like it was when it was Edward or Esme. I remember the change taking place in Edward. Stinking of disease and burning with fever he had tossed and turned and moaned as he suffered. Esme had cried but moved little when it was her turn, only fisting and releasing her hands, clasping them together and then apart and plucking at her clothes as she whimpered with the burning.

Now there is Rosalie, and she screams and fights against the pain. She tosses her head and thrashes as she struggles, and once again I take her hand and try to soothe her.

“Please Rosalie, ease yourself…I know it hurts but it will be over soon. Then you’ll be one of us, a vampire. We’ll teach you to hunt, and you’ll drink the blood and feel how good it is and all this pain can be forgotten….Oh Rosalie, _I am sorry.”_


	3. Rosalie Wakes

“One more day,” I say calmly to Esme as night falls again.

“Edward should be home tonight,” she tells me. He has been away hunting, something he often does in order to give me and Esme some privacy, and I think he will be in for a great shock when he returns.

“I wonder what Edward will think of her,” I say slowly.

Esme smiles hopefully. “Perhaps he’ll be happy. She is more his age than you or I, and she’s very beautiful. He may enjoy having a…companion.”

I can’t help smiling at her slightly overdone look of innocence. Esme has such a romantic heart! Of course, should things happen as she would like them too it would be wonderful. Edward is an old soul, prone to fits of melancholy, and falling in love could be just what he needs. Perhaps he too, with his gentle and intuitive nature, will offer healing to Rosalie because she has been brutalised, and there will no doubt be scars on her heart that the venom cannot heal as it will the physical wounds.

And she _is_ beautiful. As the venom does its work and the damage from her beating heals Esme and I are a little taken aback at the utter perfection that is gradually being revealed to us. As a human Rosalie Hale had a well-deserved reputation as one of the prettiest girls in Rochester but the venom has taken this human prettiness and turned it in to an exquisite, sculptured beauty that both of us find ourselves staring at in wonder.

We are looking at her as she lies still, briefly silent and motionless, when Edward returns. He can hear our thoughts before he even enters the house and knows she is there, and when he comes to stand beside us his eyes on her are cold.

“Rosalie Hale? What were you thinking, Carlisle?”

I shrug uselessly. After two days of listening to her scream, of watching her suffer and struggle against the tormenting fires of transformation, I no longer know what I was thinking when I brought her home and did this to her.

“I couldn’t just let her die,” I say at last. “It was too much- too horrible, too much waste.”

Edward shakes his head in irritation. “People die all the time. Don’t you think she’s just a little recognisable though? What are we going to do with her?”

He is not saying anything I haven’t thought to myself. Of course she is too recognisable…and what _are_ we to do with her when she wakes? I am more than willing to take care of her as I took care of Edward and Esme, but she may not wish for that and she will owe us nothing. “That’s up to her, of course,” I tell Edward calmly. “She may wish to go her own way.”

I sit beside Rosalie and hold her hand as she continues to scream with a voice that has become nothing but a hoarse rasp of air through her ravaged throat. Her pain makes me cringe, and over and over I find myself whispering to her that I am sorry.

With a sigh, Edward sits beside me. “She’s still screaming? Even after two full days?” he notes.

I nod. _It has not been an easy time. I know you feel I’ve made a mistake Edward, and I don’t know that you’re wrong…but you would understand if you saw her as she was when I found her. I couldn’t leave her to die like that._

Edward rubs his nose thoughtfully, but then his jaw suddenly clenches and his eyes narrow as he stares at Rosalie, who is moaning and rolling her head frantically from side to side.

“What?” I say sharply. “What can you hear?”

“It was her fiancé,” he says flatly. “He’s the one that did it to her…he and his friends.”

My jaw drops. “Surely not…you must be mistaking what she’s thinking.”

“No, I’m not mistaken.” The depth of rage in Edward’s voice is chilling. “It’s very clear Carlisle. It was Royce King Junior who is responsible for this. Not solely…there were others…but he began it.”

I hadn’t realised Esme was listening until I hear her cry out at that, and come to stand beside me. “Oh…we must go to the police!”

“And say what?” Edward spits out. “As far as the world knows she’s missing and it’s going to have to stay that way. We can hardly walk into the police station and tell them how we know! _Oh yes, Rosalie Hale…we turned her into a vampire and now through my psychic gifts we know that it was a member of the most prominent city families who raped and beat her…”_

I touch his shoulder as Esme flinches. “Edward…” I take Esme’s hand and look at her steadily. “You do see that Edward’s right though. We can’t possibly go to the police.”

“But that means he’ll get away with it,” Esme whispers miserably. She strokes Rosalie’s hair. “Carlisle…we can’t allow it! He’s a monster, and I can’t think that it’s safe for him to be free…who knows how many other girls have suffered at his hands, or will suffer in the future?”

Edward rises abruptly to his feet. “I can’t listen to her anymore. But don’t worry Esme…he won’t get away with it.” He stalks from the room.

For a moment Esme and I look at each other bleakly. “We will do something,” I say quietly. “You’re right that the man is a menace. If he could do this to his fiancé…well, who knows what else he is capable of? But before we can think about dealing with King we need to focus on Rosalie. She will wake soon, and I can’t predict how she will react.”

“You should go and hunt,” Esme says, taking a deep breath. “We’ll need you at your full strength when she wakes, and you have a little time before that happens.” She presses her lips to mine, and just for a moment I close my eyes and revel in the smell and taste of my beloved wife. A moment of comfort in this turmoil I have created by bringing Rosalie here.

“You’re right,” I sigh, rising to my feet. “Watch over her, and I will be back as soon as I can.”

True to my word I am quick. I hunt and return by midday, hearing Rosalie’s thudding, racing heartbeat as I enter the house. It is far too fast for a human heart, and I know that it will not take the strain much longer.

“It should be today,” I tell her, as I sit back beside the bed and take her slender hands in mine again. “You will start to feel better very soon Rosalie. Just wait for that…you’ve been very brave, and it’s nearly over.”

Esme has brushed her hair while I’ve been gone, and it spreads across the pillow like spun gold. The face is perfect in its stillness, but as I stare at it I imagine how it will look when she opens her eyes and I see the ruby red glow of the newborn, and I have to work hard to suppress my shudder.

“Carlisle,” Edward says from the doorway, frowning slightly. “I think you should stand back here. I don’t think you want to be too close to her when she wakes up.”  

I have only just reached Edward when Rosalie’s heart beats its last. There’s an interminable moment where all we hear is the silence, and then Rosalie opens her eyes. Brilliant, glowing crimson they scan the room, and then as she takes in Edward, Esme and I in the doorway she leaps from the bed and presses herself against the far wall. Her attention is momentarily caught by her own vampire skin and she glances suspiciously down at herself, before she glares at me accusingly.

“What have you done to me?” she demands, and her words are laced with fury. “What have you done to me, doctor?”

Slowly I step towards her, holding up my hands in a gesture of appeasement. “Rosalie, my name is Carlisle Cullen,” I say soothingly. “This is my wife Esme, and this is Edward. You are in our home, and you are quite safe now.”

Her eyes flick from me to Esme to Edward, but then she narrows her eyes as she turns her stare back to me. “I want to go home.” She flings up her head and stamps her foot. “You’ve been keeping me here and I won’t have it. Take me home now!”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” I say steadily. “You’ve been here three days now Rosalie, and certain things have changed. Do you remember the things I told you?” I am not certain how much, if anything she will have retained from the truths I told her while she burned.

“She remembers,” Edward says softly. “But she thinks you were lying. She thinks you took her to hell.”

_Oh child…you were already in Hell I think._

Rosalie hisses at Edward. I think it shocks her, the viciousness of the sound she has made, but she tosses her head and sneers at him. “Of course you were lying! Such fairy tales and horror stories belong in the nursery, and I’m not a child. I don’t know what you think you’re doing here but I want no part of it. You seem to know my name and know who I am, and I insist you take me home immediately!”

For a moment I feel as though I am floundering. Neither Edward nor Esme responded with this level of aggression and anger when they first woke, and I am not entirely certain how to handle it.

“Do you remember me finding you in the alley?” I ask her gently after a moment. “You had been very badly hurt Rosalie. You were dying…I did the only thing I could for you.”

Her face tautens and she presses her body even more tightly against the wall, breathing hard as she makes an unconscious noise of distress.

“She remembers that too,” Edward murmurs. “I wouldn’t talk about that part of things with her Carlisle, not now…it’s making her even more agitated and she needs to understand.”

Rosalie’s lip curls as she snarls at me accusingly, “I remember that. And I remember that you brought me here and tortured me even more…what kind of doctor are you?”

 _A doctor who struggles, who may have broken the oath that binds him to abstain from doing harm…_ But this is not the time for philosophy, not in the fiery eyed glare of this newborn.

“The things I spoke of to you are true,” I say to her steadily. “They were not nursery tales Rosalie, but facts. There are vampires in the world and that is what Edward, Esme and I are. That is what you have become.”

“No!” She stamps her foot again and clenches her fist in denial. “Stop it! I don’t want to hear your lies. I am Rosalie Hale and I want nothing to do with you! _Now let me go!”_

How can she be so determinedly obstinate? Doubt, fear, uncertainty, anger…these emotions I could deal with. These emotions Edward and Esme felt and we faced them together, but neither of them ever stared at me with defiant red eyes and simply refused to even consider that what I was telling them was truth.

Edward is frowning as he catches my eye. “She doesn’t _want_ to believe anything,” he tells me. He looks back at Rosalie and nods at her. “Go and look in the mirror Rosalie. Go on!”

She moves like a jungle cat, all coiled power and grace as she slides along the wall, keeping her distance from us at all times. Then she sees her reflection in the glass and it is as though we all disappear as she stares, enraptured by the beauty of her own reflection. For a brief moment she smiles. I feel myself lighten, for there has never been anything so lovely as Rosalie when she smiles, but then Edward’s hand closes around my elbow and pulls me back to the doorway.

“Watch out…she’s going to throw things,” he warns.

Rosalie screams, a piercing sound of rage that reverberates through the house. I watch in horror as she snatches something from the dressing table beside her and hurls it at the mirror, shattering the glass into a thousand fragments that explode outwards with the force of the blow. She doesn’t stop there, sending the heavy dresser itself skidding across the floor to smash into the wall before she seizes the stool and crushes it, throwing the splintered remains at me with deadly force.

“Why?” she screams at me. “Why? Why did you do this to me?”

Truthfully she is almost glorious in her fury. All that blonde hair flying and crimson eyes glittering, she is almost incandescent with rage as she rampages. Esme and Edward and I can do nothing but watch helplessly as she screams and shrieks and smashes her way through the room, destroying anything and everything she can get her hands on. It is only when there is nothing left that she stops, and the face that she finally turns to me is bereft as she whispers one word.

“Why?”

I wish I could weep, for the bewildered pain I see in the girl’s face and the remorse that is welling up in my heart. _What have I done here?_ The dark gift…this girl doesn’t want it, but the venom has done its work and there is no going back.

“There was no other choice,” I tell her softly. “You could not have survived that assault any other way.” Of this I am sure.

For a long moment there is silence as Rosalie absorbs this new information. “What now?” she says at last, and I breathe a sigh of relief that at least she is now approaching reason.

Esme steps forward. “Are you thirsty?” she asks kindly.

Rosalie’s nostrils flare. “Yes.”

“I explained this to you, during your change, that although we are vampires my family and I have made a conscious choice to avoid ending human lives and we survive by drinking the blood of animals,” I say gently.

Rosalie’s nose wrinkles in disgust, but she says nothing as she swallows repeatedly.

“It’s the venom,” Edward tells her quietly. “You don’t like the idea, but your body knows what it wants now.”

She does want blood. I know that the burn of the thirst must be intensifying every minute, and instead of standing still she is now rocking anxiously up on her toes as her head raises and she instinctively scents the air.

“She’s very thirsty,” Edward said to Esme and I. “We should go now. If she smells a human she won’t be able to stop.”

“Go where?” Rosalie demands imperiously. “I’m so thirsty…I want a drink.”

“We know Rosalie,” Esme says. She moves closer to the girl, and holds out a hand, inviting her to follow. “Come with us now. We’ll find you something.”

Rosalie is hesitant. It is clear she doesn’t trust us, but her thirst is becoming overwhelming and the temptation of having something to sate it has her following us downstairs and outside into the twilight. For a moment she is transfixed by the sudden assault to her senses- her vampire sight and hearing and smell taking in everything, a thousand times more potent than her human senses could have ever been – but nothing can distract her from the burning thirst in her throat and she whimpers in distress and shakes her head as she searches for relief.


	4. Following Instinct

_Edward, come with me. We’ll find her something to drink- she may be more inclined to listen to us once she is less thirsty._

Edward and I race into the forest, following the freshest scent trail of the deer that are so plentiful.

“She should be doing this herself,” Edward murmurs to me as we stalk them. “She has to learn, Carlisle.”

“She _will_ learn,” I answer, somewhat sharply. “But we can help her at first.”

I didn’t catch prey and present it to either Edward or Esme when they were first changed. Edward was a boy, and despite his distress over the change and his emerging telepathy he was reasonable from the first moment. Esme too was reasonable, and grasped the concept of what she had become and what she needed to do very quickly. She was a country girl at heart and the idea of hunting was not new to her. Rosalie however, has been anything but reasonable so far, and I doubt the girl has got any closer to nature than a walk through the city parks in all her life.

 The deer are easy to catch. “Don’t break the skin,” I direct Edward. “I don’t want them bleeding.”

I snatch a buck and in one clean move break his back so he is paralysed. I don’t like to see even animals suffer, and although I know the deer is not in pain I know he must be terrified and I hope that Rosalie will feed and end his life quickly. Edward takes two smaller deer and, following my lead, snaps the spines so that they dangle limp and helpless from his hands. Three will be more than enough and I am anxious about Esme left alone with her, so Edward and I don’t delay as we hurry back towards the house.

Rosalie is pacing, and as I emerge from the trees with the deer she veers towards me. I can tell by her flaring nostrils that she is scenting the blood and she wants it badly, so I kneel down on the grass and lay it out beside me, beckoning her closer.

“I broke his back,” I say, touching the bony ridge of the spine. “Right here, so he can’t move. You won’t have to do that when you hunt for yourself but it makes it easier this first time. It’s all right Rosalie, you can come closer…it’s yours.” I try to make my tone as matter-of-fact and non-threatening as I can.

Rosalie looks repulsed, but at the same time she drifts inexorably closer and then drops to her knees beside me. I expect her to rip into the animal immediately to slake her thirst, but although she bends low over it and breathes in the scent she doesn’t bite. Her face works, desire and revulsion at war within her, and she whimpers in distress.

“She’s still thinking like a human,” Edward says. “It’s almost interesting really, her new instincts at war with what she thinks…”

“Never mind Edward,” I say. “We have time Rosalie, lots of time to make this change.” This girl is strung so tightly I fear pushing her will simply cause her to snap, and after her destruction in the house I have realised that we must tread very lightly here.

“It’s rather a surprising amount of control actually,” I say to Edward and Esme a moment later, watching as Rosalie’s hands twitch and she hisses as she fights with herself. “I know you want it Rosalie,” I say with gentle encouragement. “I understand that it feels strange to you, but it’s what you need right now. Your body, your _vampire_ body, knows how to do this if you let it.”

I am impressed that she is able to sit here with blood so near and available and not feed, but I want her to take it. She needs to ease her thirst if she’s going to be able to think at all, and I want her to feed and break through this barrier of denial I believe she is feeling. There is so much for her to learn… I am relieved when my words seem to reach her and she stills, her eyes glazed as she lowers her head and then strikes like the predator she is now, her teeth tearing into the hide and her mouth closing over the wound as she gulps down the spurting blood.

“Good girl.” As I shift my position slightly she snarls and drags the body closer to her, and I can’t help but feel a slight quiver of amusement. “It’s all yours Rosalie,” I say lightly. “Drink it all…you’ll feel better.”

Long ago I accepted what I am and came to terms with the violence inherent in this life. I am a doctor, a man, a husband, and I strive to live in the light…but at heart I am also a vampire and like all such creatures I must kill and drink blood to survive. I thought this fact had lost its power to horrify me.

I was wrong.

As I watch Rosalie, this beautiful girl with the face of an angel now crouched at my side, her body trembling with the ecstasy of the blood sacrifice she has drunk and her crimson eyes ablaze with the newborn blood lust, I cannot stop my feeling of horror. She is feral as she tosses the drained carcass carelessly to the side and glares me with a furious hunger as she snarls, “I want more.”

_Oh God, forgive me for I have sinned…what have I done here?_

Edward tosses another deer at Rosalie and this time there is no hesitation as she seizes it and clamps her mouth on to it with a low groan of satisfaction. Her eyes close as she feeds, lost in the sensations of her vampire body taking in the life-giving blood, and all Esme and Edward and I can do is watch her.

Rosalie finishes and drops the deer to the ground, sitting back on her heels with a grimace of distaste. She glares at me balefully, and I see her swallow repeatedly. “It still burns,” she snaps indignantly.

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” I say. “That will ease with time, although it is something you’ll have to get used to. It will be worse when you are around humans, or when you’re exceptionally thirsty.”

“When can I go home?” she demands. “When will you take me to see my parents?”

Edward, Esme and I exchange helpless glances. Is Rosalie not _listening_? Does she not understand what she is now? She must be made to see.

“That won’t be possible Rosalie,” I tell her firmly. “You’re a vampire now, and you must accept that your life will be different from now on. I’m afraid there is no going back.” My words sound bleak and final.

“But I didn’t want this!” Rosalie sounds appalled that anyone would dare deny her anything. In her agitation she takes hold of the buck’s antlers and twists them angrily. “I don’t want my life to be any different!” Unused to her new strength she shatters the antlers as she squeezes her hands, and with a wordless exclamation she throws the shattered remnants of them away from her.

“There’s no damage,” Edward says to her as she examines her hands. “There’s very little on earth that can injure you now Rosalie.”

She whips her head up to look at him, and her eyes are glittering.

“You can feel how strong you are,” Edward continues. “You crushed those antlers without effort. You can feel the strength and power your body has now…imagine yourself running Rosalie, or jumping or climbing. Your bones can’t be broken and there is nothing short of vampire teeth that can penetrate your skin.”

“No one can hurt me?” Her tone is intent. “I’m stronger than… _they_ were?”

 _Oh, poor child._ For once I am glad that our human memories fade, and I hope that time works swiftly to blur the experiences of brutality that will torment this girl.

Edward’s face is tight as he answers her. “Much, much stronger than they were.”

That pleases her, as nothing else we have said to her has, and she rises gracefully to her feet and smooths her hair back over her shoulders, wiping a smear of blood from her lip with a look of disgust.

“We need to bury these carcasses,” I tell her. “There are a number of reasons for that Rosalie, but it is primarily because secrecy must always, _always_ , be our first priority. As a vampire you must never do anything that would betray your true nature to humans, and always dispose of any evidence that shows you are other the human you will pretend to be.”

Rosalie looks as though I’ve told her she has to fly. “I’m not digging around in the dirt!” she exclaims, brushing angrily at the grass and dust on her dress. “I don’t care what you say. I’m going home,” she spits out defiantly, turning on her heel and marching away.

“Oh Carlisle, what are to do with her?” Esme says anxiously.

“We have to stop her,” Edward says practically. “She’s too new to go off on her own- she doesn’t understand what she’s capable of yet.”

I raise my hands helplessly. “She can’t be allowed to return home. That would be disastrous- we must just keep trying to talk to her.” Surely she will listen, surely!

She has begun to run, and I take off after her before she gets too far away. “Rosalie!” I call, reaching towards her. As my hand brushes her sleeve she growls like an animal and hits me, hard enough to make me stumble as she snarls, “Don’t touch me!”

“Rosalie!” I call desperately. “You must stop! You don’t understand what you are now. This is _dangerous!”_ But with a flash of blonde hair she reaches the end of the driveway and on the straight, flat road she begins to run faster and I know I have no hope of keeping up with her. “Edward!” I shout, “Follow her!”

The situation is not good. An angry, aggressive vampire, with all that excruciating thirst and the strength of the newborn is the stuff of nightmares, and Rosalie is out of our control as she flees. It can only get worse though, and a moment later I hear Edward’s shout from ahead of us.

“She’s scented the farm! Head her off!”

Esme and I glance at each other in mutual dismay and bolt through the trees, moving towards the scent and sound of Edward and Rosalie. As the two of them burst from the concealing trees in front of us I stretch out my arms and between that, Esme and Edward, we have Rosalie caught. She fights back as our arms and hands clasp her, and with her newborn strength and blind desperation for blood she is formidable. The four of us fall in the struggle, and although the thought of manhandling a lady in this manner is appalling I find myself with a knee on Rosalie’s back, Edward’s shoulder hard against mine as he struggles to restrain her.

“Rosalie, Rosalie…” Esme takes the slender hands that are scrabbling for purchase in the earth and holds them, gently but firmly. “It’s all right, calm down sweetheart, it’s fine…”

But it’s not fine for Rosalie. She’s screaming and struggling with the desperation of a trapped animal, and beside me I hear Edward gasp and he moves back from her, dragging me with her.

“Carlisle, no! Get off her!” he growls anxiously. “She won’t run now, but she’s remembering what they did to her…if you touch her now she’ll tear you apart thinking you’re them!”

With the weight gone from her back Rosalie is on her feet and away from us at a speed even my vampire eyes have trouble following, ending up twenty feet away with her back pressed against a tree, her face contorted with terror. “ _Don’t you ever touch me again!”_

Oh, the fear in her eyes…I hold my hands up, palms towards her so she can see I am hiding nothing and mean her no harm. “It’s all right Rosalie,” I say, as gently as I can. “We won’t touch you. No one will hurt you again, it’s all right.”

The girl’s whole body is quivering with tension as she moves her tormented gaze across the three of us she sees as her enemies. Her hands dig into the tree behind her, fingers effortlessly cutting through the ancient wood, and she moans and whimpers in distress. I no longer know if it is the desire for blood or the terror that we have raised in her heart that is troubling her more.

_Does she want to run again? Is it the desire for the blood?_

Edward shook his head. “She’s fighting it, but mostly because she’s afraid of us. We need to make her understand Carlisle, because it would be a mistake to use any physical restraint with her again. She remembers too much of her human end.”

The things this girl has been through…there are wounds that venom cannot touch, and I wonder bleakly how any girl heals herself after such a shattering of innocence as Rosalie has had. “I’m not going to touch you Rosalie,” I say quietly, approaching her cautiously. “I want to help you.”

She hisses a warning, and I stop immediately. _Somehow_ we have to teach this girl to trust us. She doesn’t take her eyes off me as she fists her hands in her hair and then scrabbles her fingers against the tree. “What you can smell is human blood,” I say. “Feel how strongly you’re drawn towards it…this is why you cannot go home Rosalie. Not now. It is possible to resist it – as you’re doing now – but as a newborn any control you have is tenuous and you need to be careful not to ask too much of yourself. If you were to be near to your family it is likely you would hurt them.”

She hears me, and in her tortured thirst she begins to understand. Her head bangs against the tree and she breathes heavily, a hoarse rasp of pain.

“You don’t have to breathe,” Esme suggests to her. “Your body is breathing from habit and it’s part of the human façade we maintain, but it’s not necessary. If you don’t breathe you will not smell it so acutely.”

I see Rosalie clamp down her lungs. Vampires don’t need oxygen, but it is an unsettling experience to actively halt an involuntary act and I give Rosalie a minute to adjust to this new sensation. I see her regain control over herself as she stands upright and smooths down her hair.

“Come back with us now,” I say persuasively. “Let us explain more to you. Explain the rules, teach you what you will need to know, and then you can decide what you wish do from here. We will be more than happy to have you make your home with us, but we have no intention of keeping you against your will.”

Rosalie makes no sign, but Edward nods at me. “She’ll follow us home,” he says assuredly.

Rosalie scowls at him furiously, and Edward sighs as he explains. “I’m a telepath…I can read your mind.”

Rosalie stares at him in disbelief, and a faint smile crosses Edward’s face as he listens to her thoughts. “I’m not a child,” he says lightly. “I’m older than you are; I was born in 1901. Come on…let’s go back.”

Rosalie backs away as he walks past her towards home, and it isn’t until Esme and I move after him that she begins to follow us. She keeps her distance all the way home, and even when we reach home and are standing on the lawn she stands apart from us, refusing to meet our eyes.

“You don’t get tired anymore,” Edward says to her, in what I assume is a response to some inner dialogue of her own. “You don’t sleep either.”

The look she gives him is one of dislike. “Do you answer everyone straight out of their head like that?” she says haughtily. “It’s extremely rude.”

“Excuse me,” Edward mutters stiffly. “I was merely attempting to be helpful.”

“Well, don’t,” she snaps. “A person has the right to privacy in her own _head_ at least, even if it seems she has no other rights at all.” She turns away from him with an arrogant toss of her head and misses the glare that Edward shoots her way.

She is looking at the deer, at the two bodies and the one poor animal still alive that are lying on the grass. I can hear the terrified heartbeat, and as her posture shifts to that of the predator I know that Rosalie hears it and wants it too. I expect her to take it, but she stands motionless in the moonlight.

“Oh, go and take it if you want it,” Edward says to her with a long-suffering sigh. “You’ll be putting the poor thing out of its misery. And I _know_ you don’t want me to listen to your thoughts, but I can’t help it when you’re practically screaming them at me.”

“Edward,” I say in gentle reproof. “Please try and be patient.” I have never known the usually scrupulously polite Edward to betray such irritation with a new acquaintance. Then again, we’ve never had to deal with such an intransigent newborn vampire as Rosalie is turning out to be!

“Go on Rosalie,” I say to her, indicating the deer. “The more you feed the easier things will be for you, and Edward is right that the animal is suffering.”

“She doesn’t want us to watch her,” Edward says blandly, turning towards the house. Rosalie can’t see his face but I can, and I can tell by his expression that this is important so, although I am uneasy, I take Esme’s hand and the two of us follow Edward’s lead.

“We’ll be inside,” I tell Rosalie, hoping she doesn’t hear my hesitation. “Please come and join us when you’re ready.”


	5. Playing God

In the living room I sit down in the loveseat, staring numbly at Edward and Esme. I do not know what to say. In the face of Rosalie’s rage and distrust I am beginning to realise the enormity of the disaster I have wrought here.

“Oh my dear, please don’t get upset,” Esme sits beside me, her small hands fluttering anxiously at her throat. “She is just in shock, that’s all. She will accept this as we did, and…”

Her words peter out as the door is flung open with such force that it breaks off its hinges and shatters the wall behind it, and Rosalie storms in.

“This is disgusting!” she shouts passionately, indicating the blood spatters on her dress and hands and face. Even the ends of her fair hair are streaked with red. “Just look at me! Look at this mess! I hate you for doing this to me!”

“We can find you some clean clothes,” I offer, although I know that it is so much more than a dress that has her so emotional.

Esme rises to her feet and does her best to smile, and I have a moment of intense gratitude for the sweetness of my wife. “Of course we can,” she says cheerfully. “We’ll clean it up Rosalie, don’t fret.”

Rosalie is anything but appeased but Esme’s offer. “It’s horrible! I don’t want to be this thing that you’ve made me!”

“Come on Rosalie, let’s go and get you some fresh clothes and then we can all talk,” Esme says firmly, moving swiftly up the stairs. With an exasperated sigh Rosalie follows her, leaving Edward and I looking at each other in gloomy silence.

“At least she’s listening to us now,” I say finally, searching for anything positive to cling to in the mess I have created.

From upstairs we hear Rosalie’s furious shriek. “ _I don’t want to learn! I hate this!”_

 _“_ Listening to us…” Edward murmurs, raising his eyebrows at me sceptically.

I put my head in my hands, no longer able to look into his slightly scornful eyes for the guilt that is searing my soul. “Please Edward…” I say hopelessly, not even sure what I am asking him for.

It is Esme’s hands that smooth my hair though, and her gentle kisses on my neck that give me the strength to raise my head. “I’m sorry,” I say bleakly, looking straight into her golden eyes. “I am _so sorry…”_

Esme shakes her head and speak with uncharacteristic sharpness. “You don’t need to be sorry. What’s done is done, Carlisle, and we will deal with it. _All of us,_ ” she throws at Edward, who doesn’t answer.

Rosalie is much more composed when she walks gracefully down the stairs some moments later. Both Edward and I rise automatically to our feet and she nods at us with great politeness before taking a seat in the armchair I indicate. She sits very straight, her knees pressed together and her hands folded neatly in her lap and I am almost amused at the difference between this elegant young lady and the screaming, tantrum throwing vampire that awoke upstairs earlier in the evening.

“Rosalie, I want to express how sorry I am that this has happened,” I say sincerely. “Believe me when I say I would not have changed you if there was any other choice. Transformation is not something I undertake lightly. You, Edward and Esme were all dying when I made that choice for you, and in more than two hundred and fifty years you three are the only people that I have saved by changing.”

“Two hundred and fifty years? You’re older than that?” Rosalie’s eyes are like saucers as she gazes at me in shock.

I nod. “Yes. I became…what I am…approximately two hundred and seventy years ago. Edward has been with me since 1918, and Esme since 1926. As a vampire you do not age, so what you are when you are changed is what you will remain.”

She can’t object to that. It’s impossible to imagine that Rosalie could ever look more perfectly beautiful than she does right now.

Edward gives a sudden, half mocking chuckle, and Rosalie’s face darkens. “Don’t you _dare_ laugh at me!”

Must she snap and snarl about _everything?_ And Edward… _for goodness’ sake Edward, stop setting her off!_ “Please listen,” I say, fighting to sound neutral. “As I’ve said to you, the most important rule you need to remember is secrecy Rosalie. Esme, Edward and I have made the choice to preserve human life and we maintain the façade that allows us to take part in the human world. I am a doctor, and Edward is attending college. You may make that choice too, and we would be delighted to have you as part of our family if that is what you wish.” I watch carefully for her reaction as I continue, knowing I must make the offer and, if I am honest, not entirely certain what I hope she will choose. “You may prefer to make your own way in the world. Even then secrecy must always be at the forefront of your mind. We can help you with money if you need it, or you may prefer to become a nomad like some others of our kind, travelling and avoiding the human world.”

The panic on Rosalie’s face is unmistakeable, and I don’t need Edward’s slight negative shake of his head to know that she doesn’t want to go anywhere. I know she is eighteen, I remember reading the announcement of her engagement in the newspaper, and she is not ready to face the world alone.

I smile at her as I say, “As I said, we’ll be happy to have you with us, although I must warn you that our particular lifestyle can be difficult. You’ve felt the thirst when you scented human blood, and that was at some distance. You did very well though Rosalie, to resist as you did and leave the hunt, so I’m very confident you’ll be able to manage.”

Rosalie doesn’t respond in words, but she must be thinking furiously because Edward is watching her intently, a glint of amusement in his eyes. He suddenly laughs, and as Rosalie’s fists clench Esme and I frown at him.

_Edward! Please…you’re not helping the situation!_

“We will teach you to hunt,” I say, hastily continuing to talk before Rosalie starts shouting again. “We’ll teach you how to blend in to the human world. It’s not all bad Rosalie. As Edward told you, you will never feel tired, have no need to sleep, no bodily functions to take care of apart from feeding. You will never get sick, or be hurt, or feel cold or pain. You’re very beautiful, and your memory and sense are now unparalleled in the human world. You’re not invincible, but it takes a great deal to destroy a vampire.” I hesitate before I add the details. “Dismemberment and fire, precisely, but it’s not something that happens often.”

Rosalie frowns as she takes this in. “What do you _do_? If you don’t sleep, there must be so much _time…_ ” Her voice trails away.

“I work,” I tell her brightly. “Edward attends school or college…that will be an option for you later on, when you are comfortable that you can control yourself around humans. Esme spends time gardening and renovating our homes, sewing and reading. We all read, and have a very extensive library that is of course at your disposal now. Edward plays the piano. What did you do with your spare time…before?”

“I talked to people,” Rosalie says flatly. “Visited friends, went shopping and went to parties and to afternoon teas. I was preparing for my _wedding_ …” Her face contorts with a mix of horror and revulsion before she bites her lip. When she speaks again her voice is like ice. “I was about to get everything I wanted. Marriage, and babies and wealth and now…I don’t suppose you’ll allow any of that.”

 _Oh Rosalie…_ “I’m afraid it’s not quite that simple,” I say at last.

Unable to contain her distress she rises to her feet and paces in agitation. “So you’ve made me into this… _thing_ , this monster! Not only that, I can’t do anything I like to do, I can’t have anything from my old life, I can’t…I’ve lost everything.” Her voice is a thin whisper of pain that hits me harder than anything she has shouted at me before. “You’ve taken _everything_ from me… _you should have let me die.”_

She rushes from the room, the three of us rising to our feet instinctively to halt her flight. Edward reaches the door first but then stops and holds his hand out to me and Esme as he shakes his head. “She’s not going anywhere,” he says softly, and his voice is sad as we hear her howl of heartbroken grief echo through the room.

Rosalie is silent then. I can see her from the window, huddled into herself on the porch, arms wrapped around her knees and hands gripping her arms as though she might fly away if she does not keep herself contained. Her face is hidden by her hair and part of me is glad that I do not have to see her sorrow made so plain on that angelic face.

Guilt lances my heart and I turn away from the window. Away from the girl who somehow, in her silent stillness, seems to radiate more pain and suffering than she did even when she screamed and thrashed and shuddered with the burning torment of transformation.

_I should never have done this. What was I thinking? What made me believe that in giving the dark gift to this girl I was doing the right thing? Have I become so blinded by my own arrogance as to believe I could, and should, play God with people and this immortality I can bestow?_

_Rosalie…I’m sorry. I cannot undo it, but believe me that I have seen my error and I think I will carry this burden of guilt and regret for the rest of my days._

I know she doesn’t want me, but I can’t leave her alone in her sorrow. Heavy hearted I stand by the window, silently watching over the pale, motionless shape of this girl that I have so wronged.

Dawn is lighting the sky with pale pink streaks when I feel a gentle hand on my back. It is Esme, who wraps her arms around my waist and leans against my chest as I absently stroke her hair.

“She will settle down Carlisle,” Esme says comfortingly. “I’m sure she will. You did the only thing you could for her in the circumstances.”

“I could have let her die.” I say quietly, feeling the truth of the words as I speak them. “Edward was right when he said that people die all the time and I let them go. Why not this time?”

I don’t expect an answer from her. It is not a question I am able to answer myself…why _did_ I save her? What was there in that pretty, traumatised girl that made me think she would want the dark gift I gave her?

“If only there had been more time to _think_!” I say with feeling. “But it was a desperate situation Esme…and you saw what they did to her. How could I see someone so young and beautiful die like that?”

“You couldn’t, of course you couldn’t!” Esme says fervently. “Rosalie will accept her new life and find a way of living that she finds enjoyable.” It is only because I know her so well that I can hear the tiny thread of doubt underlying her words.

“It’s put us all into a difficult situation though,” I continue after a moment. “You know of her family Esme, and the family she was marrying in to, and her disappearance has caused a furore. They have the police force and half the country out hunting for any sign of her. Even that swine she was supposed to marry is playing the part of the heartbroken fiancé. I don’t believe my pacifist principles have ever been as sorely tested as they were when Edward told me he saw the brute talking with the police as though he cared for her, when I know the atrocities he inflicted upon the poor child!”

“I’m sure there’s no evidence that you were in any way involved,” Esme says reassuringly.

“No, there wouldn’t be. I’m not expecting any police knocks on the door!” I laugh a little, before my seriousness returns. “My concern is more that she is so recognisable. She was pretty enough as a human to attract attention…just imagine the human reaction to her now! We’ve always done our best to blend in and avoid notice but I don’t know how possible that will be for Rosalie. I doubt there’s a human male in the country who isn’t going to look at her. There’s no question about taking her out anywhere in the area as she’s bound to be recognised locally. I know we’d planned on staying here longer, but I think our only option is to move on as soon as possible. Teach her to hunt here, make sure she really understands what she is and the way we live, and then move on somewhere else for a new start for all of us.”

“If that’s the best thing to do, then we’ll do it,” Esme says resolutely. “We can make it work, Carlisle. We’ll be a family, you and I and Edward and Rosalie. I think it will be lovely to have another female around, and it will be good for Edward to have the companionship of someone closer to his age.”

From the way Edward and Rosalie have sparked off each other so far I’m not sure that _companionship_ is quite the word. As Edward walks into the room at that minute with a look of incredulity at Esme, I’m not sure that he finds the idea of having Rosalie as his companion to be a desirable one.

“Please don’t get your hopes up on that point,” he says flatly, confirming my thoughts. “This is definitely not what I needed…and you should know that she’s sitting out on the porch listening to every word you’ve been saying.”

I give a small start. Truthfully it has not occurred to me that Rosalie would be listening, although I have said nothing I would not have her hear. I am so used to living with Edward, whose mind reading makes deception impossible, that I very rarely speak other than complete truth these days.

Edward, Esme and I join Rosalie on the porch. “We need to dispose of those deer before the sun is fully risen,” I say, looking at Rosalie. We cannot have carcasses rotting on the lawn, but Rosalie turns her face away from me with her lower lip thrust out stubbornly. It is clear she has no intention of taking responsibility for the drained deer.

Beside me Edward sighs impatiently. “I’ll do it. That will be easier than arguing this one out now,” he mutters. He jumps from the porch and scoops up the deer before he vanishes into the forest.

Esme sits companionably beside Rosalie, but when I make a move to sit beside her Rosalie flinches. It is difficult to see this evidence of her distrust and dislike specifically directed at me, but I say nothing as I step down onto the grass and stand casually.

“It’s just as well that you heard our discussion,” I say lightly. “We had no intention of hiding anything from you as it happens; decisions affecting the family are always discussed together. I suppose we’re also used to Edward, who doesn’t really need to be told things directly! We were just uncertain as to whether you were ready to discuss the future at this point.”

Rosalie’s volatile rage seems to have burned itself out, but her voice is hard as she answers me. “What future? Killing things?”

Esme winces at the starkness of her answer, and I touch her gently on the shoulder. “Everyone has to eat,” I say mildly. “We try to be responsible about our hunting by burying the remains, feeding upon wild animals rather than any farmer’s stock, doing we can to not impact the local ecosystem in a negative way. Esme keeps abreast of news of rare and endangered species and we will generally avoid those.”

Rosalie snorts in contempt. “You’re vampires with ethics?”

Edward appears again, brushing dirt off his hands and smiling at Rosalie. “We refer to ourselves as vegetarians. A little joke.”

“Hilarious,” she says sarcastically.

I jump in before Edward can snap back. “Esme and I were discussing our future plans. Rosalie, you’re perhaps a little too conspicuous to risk appearing anywhere public. You do understand that no one from your old life can see you as you are now? To them it must be as though you had died. I cannot stress to you enough how important secrecy is, not only for us but because of what would happen to any human who discovers too much about us.”

Rosalie glares at me. “I hate this! But yes…I understand.”

Well, at least we’re getting somewhere now. “Your family and…your family are searching the state for you.” I don’t wish to raise the spectre of the monster of her fiance with her. “Because of your youth, because of your connections, because of the mystery surrounding your disappearance this affair has garnered a great deal of public attention. It is important that you are not seen, not even a distant glimpse of you. I think for a time we should stay here while you adjust; this house was chosen for its isolation and we’ll be quite safe here. We can teach you to hunt during darkness, and use the days to teach you how to harness your new vampire abilities and behaviours to pass as human while we consider where we’ll settle next.”

Rosalie bites her lip hard at my words.

“Don’t think of him,” Edward says fiercely, his face tense. “He won’t get away with it.” His eyes meet mine. “We’ll think of something.”

I abhor violence, and the idea of the retribution Edward surely has in mind should be unthinkable to me, and yet…

“No!” Rosalie snarls, glaring at Edward with a face tight with loathing and eyes that burn with rage. “None of you are to do anything! He will pay – oh yes, he’ll pay! – but I want to be the one to deal out justice for this.” She turns her face away and drops her voice. “You’ve taken everything from me…at least leave me this. At least let me choose how it ends.”


	6. What You Are Now

Esme rises abruptly to her feet. “Come with me Rosalie,” she says. “I’ll show you around the house.”

Rosalie goes with Esme willingly enough – perhaps understandably she seems more relaxed and less angry with Esme than with me – and for a moment Edward and I stand in silence.

“She’s serious about vengeance,” Edward says finally, his voice low. “It may be only a fleeting determination, but we must watch her Carlisle. I’m afraid she can’t be trusted, not with her being as wilful and impulsive as she seems to be.”

“Give her time to settle,” I say bleakly. “It’s understandable that she wants revenge now. God knows I want to find those animals that hurt her and rip them apart! I know it goes against everything I’ve believed, but you didn’t see her Edward….” I can’t continue, seeing once again in my mind’s eye the broken girl I carried home.

“I’ve heard her thoughts,” Edward says, his voice strained. “I apologise for being short with her, but she isn’t easy to be near.”

“She’s been through too much in too short a time,” I say quietly. “Don’t judge her too much Edward, not yet.”

He and I return to the living room, where Edward takes a seat at the piano and begins playing thoughtfully. I seat myself at the table, leafing absently through the newspapers I have neglected as I watched over Rosalie, thinking deeply.

Esme joins me a little while later, sitting beside me and taking the papers as I finish with them so she can complete the crossword puzzles.

“I gave Rosalie our room,” she says to me. “We will have to move our personal things out. Perhaps put them in Edward’s room until we can clean up and repair the damage to the spare room?” She smiles at me trustingly. “I know you won’t mind. I felt that Rosalie might need some space she can calls hers as she adjusts.”

“Whatever you think best,” I answer, realising that I know little of the mindset of adolescent girls. I may have treated their ailments, but I’ve spent little time delving into their thoughts and feelings; since her vampire waking Rosalie has mystified me.

As if she heard her name, Rosalie appears soundlessly in the doorway. She’s not looking at Esme and I though. Instead she is focussed on Edward on the piano, and she silently sidles along the wall until she’s standing behind him, listening intently.

“Music has charms to soothe the savage breast,” I quote softly to Esme, watching Rosalie.

Edward’s eyes meet mine across the room, but he pretends to take no notice of Rosalie as she steals closer. Instead he increased the tempo of his playing and transitions seamlessly into a new piece, something that crashes and shudders and pounds through me, seeming to embody the volatility that Rosalie has brought with her into our previously peaceful family. The tension of Edward’s playing builds to crescendo, and then slowly, gradually he slows, and the music that was like a storm becomes like soft waves lapping at my toes.

Even Rosalie relaxes, if only a fraction. As though she is alone she wraps her arms around herself and rests her cheek against the wall, staring out the window with her face blank as Edward’s music swirls softly through the room. For hours the only movement in the room is Edward’s hands on the piano keys and when he stops playing there is nothing.

It is Rosalie who breaks the silence, turning to Edward and nodding slowly. “Thank you,” she says hesitantly, and then she is gone, racing from the room in a blur of vampire speed.

“Your playing was beautiful Edward,” Esme says sincerely. “I’m sure Rosalie enjoyed it. Now, Carlisle dear, I think we should make a start on cleaning up the spare room and seeing what needs repairing or replacing.”

She and I head upstairs and survey the damage Rosalie inflicted on the spare room.

“Well,” Esme says after a long moment,” I think we can safely say that _everything_ needs replacing.” She can’t hold back a giggle, and I wrap an arm around her shoulder and laugh as I embrace her.

Rosalie has certainly been thorough in her destructive rampage. There is not a stick of wood bigger than a chopstick in the room despite all the furniture that was in here, all the linen that was on the bed has been shredded, and there is not a plaster wall left intact. The rubble strewn floor glitters with shards of glass and china.

     Esme and I clean rapidly, and soon the detritus of Rosalie’s rage has filled the trashcans and several sacks but the room is clean. It will need replastering, a job that Edward and I are capable of, and then Esme can choose new furniture.

“We must take our things out of the other room,” Esme says, a little anxiously. “Rosalie needs a place of her own Carlisle, and the sooner we can help her feel comfortable the better.” She bites her lip for a moment and then says in a rush. “I want her to stay Carlisle. I know she seems…difficult, but I just feel so terribly sorry for her! I remember her of course, and it’s a tragedy that her human life should have been cut short at all, let alone to end as it did. And I _know_ what it’s like to be hurt by someone you should be able to trust…” Her voice fades. “Of course what I went through with Charles wasn’t the same, but I can’t help but feel a connection to her. I want to help her find a better life, the way _you_ helped _me._ ”

Once again I hold my beloved wife close, kissing her gently. She has such a tender heart, my Esme! “I will do what I can to make her comfortable here,” I promise.

Hand in hand we knock on the door of our previous room. When we enter we find Rosalie sitting cross legged in the centre of the bed, Esme’s jewellery box in front of her. I make a small noise of surprise, and Rosalie’s head whips up to glare at me defensively. “I’m not stealing anything! She…Esme…said I could look.”

“Of course you can look!” Esme says cheerfully, perching on the bed beside Rosalie with a smile. “If you’d like to wear anything you’re welcome to.”

As I start emptying the contents of the closet into Edward’s closet, Esme bends over the jewellery with Rosalie and begins showing her some of her pieces. Esme is a modest woman with no desire to flaunt the wealth we have accumulated and she doesn’t wear anything ostentatious as a general rule, but I like to buy her beautiful things and she appreciates the things she does have. “This is the first thing Carlisle ever gave me,” I hear her telling Rosalie with a laugh. “And look, Carlisle had these earrings sent to me from an Egyptian friend…”

I half listen to their conversation as I transfer clothing from closets and then lift and carry the dresser out into the hallway. In the warmth of Esme’s friendliness Rosalie begins to thaw, and I am shocked into immobility when I return to the room and see her smiling in genuine pleasure, as Esme skilfully pulls back her hair and adorns it with a small tiara I bought her to wear to a ball.

“Oh Esme, it’s so pretty!” she exclaims, and for a moment I catch a glimpse of the laughing girl I noticed at the Charity Ball that seems to have become lost in the vampire bundle of nerves and rage Rosalie has become.

Esme giggles as she tucks a long blonde curl up into place and straightens the jewelled headpiece. “Go and look,” she invites.

Rosalie is in front of the full length mirror in the blink of an eye. We shall have to teach her to move in a more human-like way, I think absently. There is nothing human-like about the absolute stillness she stands poised in now, the mirror reflecting her exquisite visage.

“I look perfect,” she says flatly. “There isn’t anyone in the world more beautiful than me now.”

It _should_ sound ridiculously arrogant, the statement of a conceited child…but what she says is true. In all my years I have never seen anyone, vampire or human, as beautiful as the girl standing before me now. But Rosalie’s beauty has the icy and untouchable quality of a great work of art, and something in her red eyed stare and the flat way she speaks is chilling.

“My eyes…” she says quietly, and her fingertips touch the glass.

“The colour will change.” Esme steps forward to stand beside Rosalie, red eyes and golden meeting in the mirrored reflection. “We’re all born to vampire life with red eyes, but if you maintain the animal diet the colour will become something like mine and Carlisle’s and Edward’s. Still not quite human,” Esme shrugs, “but close enough.”

As Rosalie moves closer to the mirror she is suddenly caught in the shaft of sunlight streaming through the window - sunlight that reflects off her new vampire skin with a sparkle like the light reflecting from the diamonds in her hair. She sucks in her breath sharply and for a moment the three of us freeze.

“What is that?”

“It’s how your skin reacts to the sunlight now,” Esme answers quietly.

Rosalie steps further into the light, and her eyes are burning as she looks from the glittering skin of her bare arms towards me. “And it will always do this? Whenever I stand in the sunlight the light will reflect like this? And I’m supposed to hide what I am now?”

I can’t lie. “Yes.”

Almost gracefully she turns around and with the barest hint of effort smashes the mirror. “I hate you,” she says, and my heart twists at the viciousness of her tone. “I hate you for what you’ve done to me…get away from me _now_.”

I back away, helpless to do anything else in the face of her bitter glare. Esme joins me and we are both several steps into the hall when Rosalie slams the door. But once again she fails to temper her vampire strength and with a screech of splintering wood the door frame itself cracks as the door tears off the hinges and flies into the hall, smashing through the plaster wall opposite.

Esme winces at this destruction of her home, and we both hear Rosalie’s enraged shriek and something else being smashed in the bedroom before she storms back out and confronts us. “I can’t even close a door! I hate this, I hate you, I HATE YOU!”  

She is clenching and releasing her fists and bouncing on her toes with the effort of containing her rage. I am not sure how long she can continue to restrain herself and I grimace at the idea of what else she might destroy in her fury.

“I understand that you’re angry,” Esme says calmly. “I understand that you want to lash out, but please Rosalie, try and leave the house intact.”

Rosalie breathes deeply and subsides, somewhat sulkily. She refuses to look at me, but trains her defiant red eyes on Esme. “I’m sorry,” she spits out. “I didn’t mean to break that.”

“You just need to get used to what you can do now,” Esme says practically. “Learn to harness your new strength and use it appropriately, and learn how to act like a human when you need to.” She looks speculatively at Rosalie. “Although all that can probably wait. I expect you’re thirsty now?”

Rosalie growls. “ _Yes.”_

Esme smiles at me, and I can’t help but touch her face gently as I smile back. I do so admire her ability to remain calm and optimistic in the face of Rosalie’s dark anger! “Let’s go out hunting then,” I say. “That’s the most important thing for you to learn.”

“Hunting,” Rosalie says flatly. “You want _me_ to go out and hunt and kill some animal?”

I look at her steadily. “Yes. You’re thirsty, and blood is what you need now to keep you strong and healthy. I brought you the animals yesterday, but that was only for your first time. You need to learn to do this Rosalie.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

I shrug. “Then you’re going to be very, very uncomfortable. Blood is the only thing your body will tolerate now, and that burning you feel in your throat isn’t going to go away until you feed.” It feels wrong to be so unbending, but there is no option here. The girl needs to eat, and she needs to learn how to feed herself. I watch out of the corner of my eye as Rosalie ponders my words, but she is already horribly uncomfortable with the flames of the thirst licking at her throat and when I turn and head outside she follows me without another word.

She doesn’t want to hunt. Everything in her face screams out revulsion and disgust and a furious, helpless rage, but as I talk her quietly through the basics of scenting and tracking and show her how to move stealthily as she stalks her prey one thing becomes abundantly clear. Rosalie’s fierceness and determination runs bone deep. She is a fast learner and while the hunting might repel her, since she has to do it she throws all her considerable strengths into doing it as well as it can possibly be done. She takes out a deer with ease and then skims through the treetops and catches a bobcat, and there is a steely eyed look of satisfaction as she drops silently to the ground beside me with the carcass gripped tight in her hand. Her clothes are torn and blood stained but I must concede, to my surprise, that she has done exceptionally well for a first hunt.

This time she doesn’t refuse when I inform her she must dispose of her kills properly. I explain again about secrecy and show her how she can tear up a tree and use the hollow made by the roots to throw the carcasses in and then replace the tree. She follows my instructions, and with every move she makes I see her assessing her new strength and abilities and refining her movements. I cannot be anything but impressed with her focus and single mindedness, but underlying my relief that she seems to be accepting her new life there is a still a thread of unease.

 _What have I created here?_  


	7. The Greatest Temptation

“That was excellent,” I say to her as we return to the house. “Truly Rosalie, you’ve done very well, and it will only become easier from here.”

“When will I be able to be near people?” she asks abruptly.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible to say with any degree of certainty,” I answer truthfully. “Every vampire’s tolerance to the thirst is different. The first year is the hardest…”

“A year!” she exclaims. “That’s too long – I can’t wait a year!”

I look at her sharply. “Wait a year for what?”

Rosalie looks away. “Never mind.”

I have the uncomfortable feeling that she is thinking of retribution. “It won’t be a year until you can be around humans without being an uncontrolled danger,” I say, a little reluctantly. “You were able to resist when you were only hours old, which is a positive sign. We will expose you to humans from a safe distance so you can practise your resistance, and move ahead to closer contact when you feel confident you can control yourself.”

“I want to do that now,” she says insistently. “I want to practice resisting now.”

I look at her. “You realise that there is no rush? That you’re immortal now Rosalie, and time no longer has the same meaning it did? We have plenty of time to find opportunities to increase your resistance.”

“I want to do it now,” she repeats stubbornly. “It needn’t concern you- you just need to tell me where the farm is and I’ll go by myself.”

I take a deep breath and remind myself to be patient. Clearly Rosalie still does not fully comprehend the threat she will be to humans with her newborn thirst. “You can’t go alone Rosalie,” I say evenly. “I’m sorry, but we cannot knowingly allow such a risk to a human. Remember how much you were drawn to it last night, and that was at some distance…closer to a human it will be even harder than that. Esme and Edward and I will accompany you, and you need to know that we will stop you physically if it’s necessary.”

Rosalie stiffens at that, but her face is smooth as she says quietly, “There will be no need.”

I hope she is right, for the last thing I want to do is lay hands on this emotionally fragile girl and physically restrain her again. Her dislike of me is almost palpable, her distrust of me even stronger, and already I do not know if she will ever be able to forgive me for what I’ve done to her. Forcing her to relive her trauma can only cause more damage to a relationship that is already so tenuous and insubstantial.

I well remember the torment of the newborn thirst when the scent of human blood invaded my senses, and I know how difficult resistance can be. I would like to suggest to Rosalie that she wait until she feels more settled before taking on the challenge. But she is determined, and so when we reach the house she springs upstairs to change her clothes in preparation. I search out Edward and Esme to request their help in taking Rosalie out for the first planned exposure to what has become her greatest temptation- human blood.

“Why are you so slow?” Rosalie is thirty feet away before Edward and Esme and I have stepped off the porch, and she scowls at us impatiently.

“We’re not slow, _you’re_ being too fast,” Edward answers. “We’re walking at a perfectly normal human pace- you’re walking at a vampire pace.”

Rosalie’s jaw twitches at his use of the word vampire, but I can see her looking intently at Edward as he strolls towards her. “I have to learn to _walk_ again?” she says incredulously.

“Not exactly,” Esme says hastily. “But there are a few little tricks you need to keep in mind when it comes to blending in with the human world. Mistakes don’t matter here at home, but it could be very awkward if humans notice any of the little things.”

Little things? Like ripping a door off its hinges when you try to close it? I frown a little at Esme. I know she is trying to be friendly and encouraging to Rosalie, but I don’t wish for her to downplay the reality of what Rosalie must learn to do now.

“Like what?” Rosalie demands.

“Movement,” I say. “We’ll start with that. We try and do most things at a normal human pace so that it becomes second nature to slow your movements and temper your strength. When you’re walking, stroll instead of striding out as you’ve been doing and that will keep your pace slow. Slow down all your movements.”

As we come alongside her, Rosalie falls into step beside Esme, who smiles at her encouragingly. “That’s good Rosalie. Nice and even pace. Now, the next thing is to make it seem more naturally human. As a vampire you’re capable of extreme stillness- it is natural for us to be completely motionless, but of course humans don’t do that.”

Rosalie’s eyes flick from Esme to Edward to me, and the ghost of a frown drifts across her face.

“See how Edward has his hands in his pockets,” Esme goes on. “Notice how Carlisle’s arms move slightly unevenly…it sounds silly when you point it out, but it’s the absence of such little movements that people instinctively notice and that make them wary of you.” She looks at Rosalie thoughtfully. “Try and relax yourself a little. You’ll look more natural if your back is a little less stiff, and perhaps you should drop your shoulders a little”

Rosalie frowns. “My mother always said…” She bites off her words and then mutters, “Never mind,” as she tries to follow Esme’s directions.

Whilst I admit her attempt to look more relaxed is somewhat reminiscent of a chimpanzee’s stance, I admire her spirit in trying. Unfortunately Edward doesn’t hold back his smothered laugh and all progress is lost as Rosalie freezes into an attitude of aggression and then, quicker than thought, her palms hit him square in the chest and Edward is sent flying.

His reflexes ensure he lands on his feet like a cat, hissing furiously at her. “Don’t _hit_ me!”

“ _Don’t you laugh at me!”_ she snarls back.

“Children!” Esme exclaims sharply, and this time I am the one hiding a smile. She sounds like an exasperated schoolmarm, and Edward and Rosalie are glaring at each other in the attitude of belligerent schoolchildren. “Edward, if you can’t be helpful then just be quiet. Rosalie…you can’t hit anyone. Ever. If you had struck a human like that you would have killed them. Even if you only used a fraction of your strength it is too easy to misjudge and break bones.”

Rosalie’s eyes glint. “It’s that easy then? To kill someone?”

Esme flinches at the maliciousness in Rosalie’s voice, and Edward rolls his eyes. “Yes, it’s that easy,” he snaps. “But you’re a newborn…you wouldn’t be able to get within striking distance before you were overcome by bloodlust and you’d bite them.”

“I wouldn’t,” Rosalie says determinedly, and Edward’s lip curls up in an amused grin.

“I guess we’ll see when we get closer to a human,” he says, turning away from her and walking ahead.

Feeling sick at heart, I increase my pace until I am walking alongside Edward, Rosalie and Esme several feet behind. For a moment I listen to Esme’s gentle suggestions to Rosalie about slowing her movements and incorporating more fidgety human actions rather than remaining preternaturally still before I look at Edward.

_Rosalie is still set on her course of vengeance then?_

Edward nods. “More determined, if anything.” His voice drops so low that he’s nearly inaudible, and I know he doesn’t want Rosalie to overhear. “She’s in a very dark place Carlisle. She wants them to suffer as she did.”

  I know how she suffered, physically at least, with the things they did to her. My vampire memory seems like a curse right now because I know time will not dull the sickening memories of that violated body I carried home. Rosalie suffered agonies in her human death… _Dear God, forgive me. I meant only to help her, but I’ve damned her to the hell of her own mind and memories._

“It’s not your fault,” Edward says abruptly. “You couldn’t have known it would be like this.”

 _I couldn’t have known_ what _it would be like!_

“It worked out when it was Esme and I.”

_At least I knew something of you and Esme…what did I know of Rosalie Hale, really? How could I have been so arrogant as to believe that I had the right to bestow the dark gift, and that nothing but good would come of it? What Frankenstein’s monster have I created with this angry and damaged girl?_

Edward opens his mouth to argue but the breeze brings the scent of human to us and we both turn immediately to Rosalie. Whatever we might have to say to each other can wait, but her reaction will be now.

Rosalie freezes as the scent wafts past her, her body seeming to coil in on itself until she is poised to strike. Whatever pretence she was making at playing human is stripped away as she slinks towards the farm like the lethal predator she is.

“Rosalie,” Esme says coaxingly. “Stay with me.”

Rosalie snarls. Her bright crimson eyes have darkened with desire until they look nearly black in the dim forest light. “ _I want it.”_

“I know you do sweetheart,” Esme says calmly. “It smells good. But you can’t have it Rosalie…it’s not food.”

 _“Yes it is. I want it.”_ But Rosalie stops moving and her eyes flick towards Esme, who smiles at her gently.

“No Rosalie. That’s our neighbour. That’s Mrs Coombes. She’s just sitting out on her porch right now, enjoying the evening. Her husband died last year and her son runs the farm for her…you don’t want to hurt her.”

Rosalie is half crouched now, her body weaving like a snake about to strike. Her eyes slide past Esme and focus down the path as the human scent intensifies and I take a step closer. _“I want it. I don’t care…it smells too good. I want…”_ Her humanity seems almost gone now in the face of the vampire’s frenzied desire for blood.

Slowly, not wanting to precipitate the run and hunt I’m readying myself to stop her from, I reach my hands towards Rosalie.

Beside me, Edward gives an amused chuckle and leans forward until he’s staring Rosalie right in the face. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be overcome by the bloodlust,” he says derisively. “And here we’re not even close…”

For a moment I think Rosalie is going to attack him and I exchange horrified glances with Esme. _Edward, what the hell do you think you’re doing, taunting her like that?_

But Edward turns to me and, when Rosalie can’t see his face, raises his eyebrows and then winks at me. Behind him Rosalie draws herself up to her full height and stands ramrod straight, glaring at his back.

“I. Am. Fine.” She hisses furiously, and with measured steps she walks further along the path, until we are within sight of the small farmhouse itself where Mrs Coombes is sitting out on her porch nursing a cup of tea. Rosalie stares at her for a long moment and then turns to Edward, her eyes glimmering with triumph. “See? I am perfectly capable of controlling myself if I want to…” Her voice trails off and a shudder ripples up her spine, but she doesn’t move and her breathing stays perfectly even.

For a moment I see it, the potential I glimpsed in Rosalie Hale that night of the charity ball…not merely a spoiled child, but the strong, fierce and courageous woman she could have grown into. Her strength positively radiates from her as she stands tall and proud and breathes in even more deeply just to prove that can resist this most seductive of temptations, and beneath my guilt and doubt the seed of certainty that Rosalie will become one of us takes root. _Perhaps…perhaps this wasn’t a mistake._

 “Very good Rosalie,” I say softly. “You’re doing very, very well.” My words seem so inadequate against the intensity of her inner battle. I can see that she wants that blood that smells so enticing on the breeze, wants it more than she has ever wanted anything in her life. Her throat is flaming and every instinct in her body is screaming at her to run and kill and feed, and yet she resists. She has braided her hair before she came out and her hands grope blindly at the thick rope of hair, gripping it in her fists, twisting and pulling at it. Her breath is coming in shorter pants and a low whine of pure desire works its way free from deep inside her. I catch her eyes briefly, bright with shame, and realise that Rosalie is fighting two battles here – fighting against the thirst, and fighting also to avoid betraying any signs of weakness while she does so.

“It seems I was wrong,” Edward says airily. “It seems you have plenty of control when you put your mind to it Rosalie.” He grins and salutes her with genuine admiration.

“I told you so,” she says with effort. “Don’t ever…underestimate…me…” The strain she is under shows clearly in her voice.

“I don’t think any of us are going to do that,” Esme says, “Not now!” There is an almost maternal pride in the way she looks at Rosalie. “But I think you’ve pushed yourself quite enough for now Rosalie. That hair won’t grow back you know…and if you keep that up you might end up pulling it right out of your head. And that really _would_ be such a shame.”

Rosalie laughs, a ragged, half sobbing noise, but most definitely a laugh as she flips the long braid over her shoulder. “I don’t want to do that.” But she stands for several long moments with her arms crossed tightly over her body and continues to breathe in deep gulps of that deliciously human-scented air before she will consent to turn away and move towards home.


	8. Just a Girl

At the house Rosalie seems to be at a loose end. She prowls through the living room and then stops at the table as her attention is caught by the pile of newspapers, her own face looking out from the top one. As I watch her face twist as she reads the brief accompanying text I wish I’d thought to dispose of the papers before she saw them.

Esme touches her hand sympathetically. “Don’t read it, Rosalie.”

Rosalie’s face is an expressionless mask. “No one knows what happened to me.”

I say nothing. This is not a situation that words, however well-meaning, can change. No one apart from Rosalie herself, Esme, Edward and I know what happened in that dark and cold alley way and here in our house, and no one can ever know. For the safety of all involved she must just vanish and leave behind only a mystery.

“They found my clothes, and my bag and my ring…” Rosalie’s throat is working and she is unconsciously gouging deep furrows in the table top with her fingers. “ _He_ is making an appeal for my safe return? After….” She chokes, fighting to control herself. “You know? Who it was?” she demands, her eyes boring into mine.

I nod. “Your injuries told me what they did to you,” I say, careful to sound matter of fact. “Edward heard your thoughts and told us who it was.”

Rosalie tears the newspaper apart until there is nothing but a pile of confetti on the table, staring at Edward who is seated at the piano with his face buried in his arms. Finally he raises his head and looks at her wearily.

“I’m sorry. I know you don’t want me to hear your thoughts but I can’t help it. I’m not listening in on purpose! And I don’t go around telling secrets unless I really believe it’s necessary. I thought Carlisle and I could think of some way that he could be brought to account…”

“Don’t.” Her voice is like ice. “You leave him alone. Leave him…leave all of them…to me.”

Esme is biting her lip in distress, and I gently rub my thumbs on the back of her neck and kiss the top of her head. Rosalie stares at this small gesture of affection, a slight quiver rippling down her spine, and I realise afresh what a minefield we are suddenly living in.

“Perhaps we don’t need to worry about that now,” Esme says softly. “Rosalie, what would you like to do? Do you do needlework? Drawing or painting? We have art supplies and sewing things. There are plenty of books of course, if you’d prefer to read. I know you enjoyed the music yesterday- we have a record player. Do you play yourself?”

For a moment Rosalie looks baffled. “You go out and kill things and drink their blood and then you come home and _sew?”_

Esme laughs heartily. “It does sound peculiar when you put it like that!” She smiles gaily at Rosalie. “But you’ll find that we’re really rather ordinary Rosalie, despite what we are. We’re just trying to live our lives the best way we can, just like everybody else.”

Rosalie shrugs. “My mother didn’t approve of laziness and she wanted me to be accomplished. I only finished school recently, and we learned needlework and art and piano.” She looks with unwilling admiration at Edward who is still sitting on the piano, leaning over the keys. “I don’t play as well as you,” she mutters. “But I’m not awful.”

“Perhaps you can play for us sometime,” Esme suggests lightly.

Rosalie winds her braid around her fingers. Her obsession with her hair and her habit of touching and playing with it makes her seem surprisingly human. “I like to read,” she says diffidently.

“Well, there’s no shortage of books here! Goodness knows Carlisle can’t walk past a bookshop without going in,” Esme says with look of fond exasperation my way. “Not to mention the constant mail order deliveries! Although I must confess that it’s not all him; the three of us have our own particular interests of course, but we make a point to all read the same books and have book discussions sometimes. You’re more than welcome to look through the bookshelves in here and in the study to find something that interests you, and I’m sure Edward wouldn’t mind taking you into his room to look in there either.”  

 As Rosalie peruses the crowded bookcases into the living room I move away into the study, and it is there that Esme finds me some time later, slipping in silently and closing the door behind her.

“What are you doing, dearest?” Esme’s gentle hands comb through my hair, and I sigh and reach for her, drawing her down to sit on my lap.

“I’ve just written my resignation letter to Dr Travers,” I tell her soberly.

“Oh Carlisle…I’m sorry. I know how you’ve enjoyed your work here.” Esme sounds regretful.

“I have enjoyed it, but I see no alternative but resignation now.” I play absently with the pearl buttons running down the front of Esme’s dress. “Rosalie is far too volatile and unpredictable to leave alone. Truthfully, it worries me to think of you and Edward trying to cope with her alone, and stop her if she should be unable to control the thirst. We shall have to make preparations to move as soon as she is a little calmer and more reliable and we have somewhere suitable to go. She was too well known for us to risk having her seen, and the photographs and stories in the papers have only exacerbated that problem…” My voice trails off, and I close my eyes and drop my head in defeat. “Esme, my love…I must apologise. I know you have been happy here, and I am so sorry for all this upheaval. I didn’t realise…I acted purely on impulse to change her, and I did not think how it would impact you and Edward…”

“Hush.” Esme’s voice is uncharacteristically stern. “No more, Carlisle.” She takes my face between her two hands and kisses my closed eyelids. “Look at me,” she orders softly, and I open my eyes to see her tender smile. “Don’t be sorry,” she says simply. “You saved a life Carlisle.”

“Did I though?” I murmur. “Did I save a life, or damn a soul to this half-life of immortality?”

“Life is what you make of it,” Esme whispers fiercely. “A human life or vampire life, it doesn’t matter…we make our own lives Carlisle, and how can you say that yours is only half a life? Look at what you’ve done, my dearest…how many people have lived because you saved them? How many people have you helped back to health and made their lives immeasurably better because of your compassion and skills? Not to mention what you have done for Edward, and what you’ve done for me…what you _do_ for me, every day.” She kisses me, her lips hard with her ardour, and I feel myself stirring. “Rosalie is angry and frightened and hurt Carlisle. She’s confused. But she has a life, she has a _chance_ for a life now, and you should not feel sorry for that.”

Esme kisses me again, and then my hands are undoing the pearl buttons of her dress and sliding it from her shoulders, taking the straps of her camisole down with it. Pushing a pile of papers and some books from the desk I lift Esme up and lay her out on it, tugging her dress and camisole over her hips and down over her legs, hooking my fingers in her knickers to bring them down too, until she is gloriously bare and beautiful and waiting for me.

“Do you know how much I love you?” I whisper, leaning across and kissing her fervently as she rapidly undoes the buttons of my shirt and trousers.

“As much as I love you,” she says back, smiling at me as I toss my shirt on the chair and step out of my trousers, drawing Esme down the desk to me and fitting myself between her open legs.

“You’re beautiful,” I say tenderly, running my hands across the lush body she gives me so willingly, lowering my head to suck teasingly on one of her erect brown nipples.

She breathes out in a long, sigh, and I feel her hands fisting in my hair as raises her hips and pushes towards me. “Don’t make me wait.”

I laugh raggedly…it has been days since I have felt her familiar and beloved warmth around me in this way, and I don’t think I am capable of making her wait very long. Dropping to my knees I hold her thighs apart, feeling her feet curl pleasurably against my back as I touch her with my tongue, revelling in the taste and feel and smell of my beautiful wife as I bring her rapidly to orgasm. She comes almost silently and then I rise up over her once again, feeling her clenching around me as I fill her, her legs wrapping around my hips to draw me in closer.

“Oh!” I gasp, as I begin to move in her, my eyes on her breasts and face as I thrust.

“Quietly,” she reminds me, stretching her arms up over her head and closing her eyes with a blissful smile. “They don’t need to hear…not now.”

It is hard not to make noise, not with my beautiful and beloved wife in front of me and wrapped around me. But I bite my lip and grip her hips harder and as I come I stretch out over her and bury my face in her neck to muffle any noise.  

“Again,” Esme commands, and unable to deny her anything I take her down on to the bearskin rug she placed in the study precisely for this purpose and the two of us lie together and in sharing our bodies and hearts I find peace, even if only temporarily.

“I love you,” I say when we are finally still.

Esme kisses my nipple and giggles when a flick of her tongue makes me jump. “And I you.” She curls her head down onto my shoulder and gently strokes my hair. “They’re fine…you need to relax.”

I realise that I am straining to hear any noise from Edward and Rosalie in the next room, and I smile at her guiltily. “I feel so responsible Esme. Rosalie is so unpredictable.”

Esme nods slowly. “She is tempestuous…but there is more to her than temper Carlisle. Once she accepts what has happened and settles down, I think we may be surprised by her.”

“You believe she will settle? You don’t think that the manner of her human death and the vampire change have perhaps...broken something in her permanently?” Giving voice to my deepest fears for Rosalie, I can only pray that Esme has some words of comfort.

I see her considering my words carefully. “I don’t _think_ so,” she says at last. “It is difficult to judge how much she has changed since we were not well acquainted with her in her human life, but although I see a great deal of stubborn anger in her I also see much that is just a very young, frightened girl lashing out at what she doesn’t understand.”

“She is just so volatile,” I say morosely. “She is so angry…and her temper tantrums!”

Esme smiles at me affectionately. “She’s just a girl. A spoiled girl who has been indulged her whole life and never known a moment of real adversity until now…give her a chance Carlisle.”

“You always see the best in people,” I say.

“Oh, I don’t know!” Esme laughs. “If she keeps destroying my house I might have a few different things to say! But I was a girl once too.”

“I remember,” I say softly, my hand stroking the long healed bone in her thigh.

Esme’s hand covers mine. “Yes. I wasn’t, it must be said, a girl quite like Rosalie seems to be! But I remember it a little, how confusing it was to be between childhood and womanhood. I’m sure Rosalie has some of those same feelings, and her life has just become a great deal more challenging. She has to process the terrible experience she has had, as well as come to terms with how different her life will be from now on.”

“It wasn’t only that night,” I say to her slowly, not sure how much of this is my story to reveal. “I am nearly certain that bastard had hurt Rosalie before. The night of the charity ball she was alone in the conservatory after being out in the garden with him, and she seemed somewhat distressed. She had a bruise on her arm, as if someone had held her too tightly.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Esme said frankly. “I cannot imagine an attack such as he led on her would come out of nowhere- I’m sure there were signs of his violent nature earlier and unfortunately a naïve girl is an easy victim for such men.” She sighs, and I know she is remembering her human life, and the beast of a man she found herself married to. “But Rosalie is clearly a rather strong and determined young lady…we shall just have to guide her a little Carlisle, and help her through this phase of her life.”

Esme sounds confident, but as I cradle her sweet nakedness close I wonder sceptically if it’s going to be that easy.


	9. Some Dreams Remain

 Rosalie is alone in the living room, reading, when Esme and I emerge from the study. She doesn’t look at us, and I wonder uneasily if I was perhaps not quiet enough when making love with my wife. It seems silly to be self-conscious when we have become used to loving each other in the vicinity of Edward, who has not only preternaturally acute hearing but can also read minds, but I am. Perhaps it is that Edward is so skilled in hiding his thoughts and pretending that he _doesn’t_ hear, whereas Rosalie’s expressive, mobile face reflects her thoughts all too clearly when she is not actively seeking to control herself.

“What did you choose to read?” I ask genially, attempting to defuse the tension that seems to shimmer in the room. I have assumed that she will have selected one of the romance novels Esme is fond of, and I am a little surprised when she flips the cover over to show me the history of aviation she is absorbing with such fascination. I remind myself wryly that I really mustn’t judge this girl too quickly on any level…her pretty face does not mean that she may not have a keen intellect.

“You’re interested in air travel?”

“I like the airplanes,” she says with a shy smile. “My father takes me to the air shows when he can and I love it- they can do many amazing things these days! I met Mr Lindberg once you know, after he flew from New York to Paris, and we saw the _Spirit of St Louis_. Royce promised that he would take me flying after…” Her face shuts down as she realises what she’s saying and she looks away.

I glance helplessly at Esme. Is everything I say doomed to raise unhappy memories for Rosalie? “If it’s something that interests you we have other books on aviation,” I tell Rosalie after a moment. “Edward enjoys reading about mechanical and technological advances and I know he bought some books about the Lindberg flights. They’re probably in his room if you ask him about them.”

“Thank you,” Rosalie says, a little stiffly. “I might do that, when I’ve finished this.”

Rosalie seems calm enough for the time being, and after checking the time I hesitantly decide to take a quick trip to town. I need to deal with my resignation and make some financial arrangements with the bank, and although I am wary about leaving Esme and Edward alone to deal with Rosalie I see no option. At least if I go now I know she has hunted recently and she seems content enough to stay reading at home.

I am fortunate enough to catch Dr Travers in between patients and he accepts my resignation with bad grace. I know that leaving without notice is bad form, but his is a prestigious and lucrative practice and he should find a replacement without too much trouble.

I walk purposefully through town towards the bank after I’ve dealt with Dr Travers. Days at home have muddled my sense of time and it feels almost odd to be back in this human world. I have telephoned ahead to the bank and they are expecting me, but I am shocked when it is Jeremiah Hale, Rosalie’s father, who rises from behind his desk to greet me. I usually deal with him, but I had not thought he would be at work today.

“Dr Cullen.”

“Mr Hale.” The man looks dreadful, almost as pale as I am and with dark shadows under his sunken eyes. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

“Yes, well…keeps my mind off things,” he mutters, and I feel the guilt lance my heart.  

“I’m sorry about your daughter,” I say quietly. “How is your wife?” The thought of what Rosalie’s mother must be feeling is an appalling one, but I feel compelled to ask after her anyway. Perhaps it is my penance, facing the sorrow of these people who have lost their daughter to a mystery.

Jeremiah Hale shrugs. “She’s managing,” he says. The words sound callous, but as I look into his eyes I realise they stem from a place of hopelessness rather than indifference. “They found her clothes and her purse not far from where she was last seen,” he goes on blankly, staring past me and talking almost to himself. “There was a lot of blood…I don’t like to think…” He rubs his eyes wearily. “I’m sorry Dr Cullen. It’s been a difficult time, as you can imagine.”

I nod sympathetically. “Of course, Mr Hale. If there’s anything I can do, if you or your wife need anything…”

He shakes his head. “Dr Travers has her on some sedatives. Just til we know…or at least get past the next few weeks. It would have been my princess’ wedding day tomorrow, you know.”

I want to turn and flee from this grief stricken man. I have never had to deal with the reality of family left behind before – Edward was an orphan when I took him from his human life, and Esme’s family were distant and estranged. I have never had to sit face to face with the devastated family of the lost, knowing that I hold the key to their unhappiness but that I can do nothing to ease their pain. I am uncomfortably aware of the silver framed photograph on his desk, from which the human face of Rosalie smiles out with an innocent happiness I have never seen from her.

“I am sorry,” I say again. I know how inadequate the words are, but my sympathy is all I can offer this man now.

“Thank you.” Mr Hale takes a deep breath. “Right, to business…what can I help you with today Dr Cullen?”

I explain that I have resigned and will be leaving the area soon, and arrange to have a significant portion of my funds made available. I take my leave as soon as possible, and walk slowly down the street, lost in my thoughts. I am deeply disturbed by this evidence I have been forced to confront of the grief of those left behind. Oh, Rosalie has gained immortality but she has had to give up all those who inhabited her human world. And for those left behind, not knowing…I wish desperately I could give her grieving family some closure, but they will never have even a body to bury and a grave to visit and lay flowers on in commemoration of their lost daughter.

I am so low in spirit when I return home that for a moment I sit in the car, not even able to sum up the will to move inside and face Rosalie. But as I sit there I gradually take in the sounds from the house, and weaving through the girlish laugh of Esme and the deeper chuckle of Edward there is a sound like the chime of bells that can only be one thing…Rosalie is _laughing._

I am in the doorway of the living room in a flash, and I feel a smile breaking out across my face at the sight that greets my eyes. The three of them sitting around the table, the Lexiko letter tiles scattered about in front of them, Esme giggling and Rosalie’s hand over her mouth to hide her laugh as Edward arranges his tiles and makes a word. Rosalie looks happy and the three of them together…they look like a family.

 “What are you playing here?” I ask.

Edward gives a snort of laughter. “Lexiko…although Rosalie’s turned it in to nothing but a game of lies! The things she’s trying to pass off as legitimate words!” He shakes his head at her in mock sternness and I am half braced for one of her tantrums but all she does is laugh.

“Father always says if you can make up the definition and sound convincing enough explaining it then you get the points!”

I am so pleased to see her happy that for a minute I just look at them all gathered around the table, feeling the happiness glowing in my chest. How peculiar to think of where we have all come from, and yet here we are, playing word games like a family…

“Oh, I forgot to bring my things in from the car,” I say, for in my astonishment at hearing her laugh I indeed left my parcels sitting in the passenger seat. I go to retrieve them, thinking of the pleasant evening that I hope lies ahead of us and thinking that perhaps Rosalie has turned a corner and will find things easier from now on.

It’s a vain hope. I haven’t even reached the living room with the flowers for Esme under one arm and the packages I have for Rosalie and Edward in my hands before I hear her shriek and the crashing sound of the table. “Don’t bring them in here!”

“Rosalie, it’s not…” Edward, trying to talk sense. Of course he knows what has suddenly set her off.

“No!” I am in the doorway now and see Esme and Edward standing beside the upended table, Rosalie against the far wall and glaring at me wildly. “Why must you keep tormenting me like this? Is this all just some horrible, elaborately sick _joke_ to you all? For all I know you were working _with_ him…”

I am baffled. Rosalie’s rage has an element of hysterical, unreasonable terror in it and I take a step forward only to have her bare her teeth and scream at me. “Get them OUT!”

“It’s the flowers,” Edward says to me tersely.

I glance down at the bouquet of roses I brought home for Esme. “I don’t understand…” I back away anyway, but it’s too late as Rosalie scrambles through the open window beside her and bolts.

“It was the scent of the roses that set her off, he used to bring her roses…” Edward mutters. “She doesn’t trust us at all Carlisle.” He, Esme and I exchange horrified looks and chase after Rosalie, following the trail she has left behind her in her headlong flight.

I am appalled when I realise Rosalie is making for the farm. An out of control newborn and a defenceless human…I dread what we will see when we catch up to her. It is with a great rush of relief that I catch a glimpse of her through the trees, standing in the shadows with a hand on a trunk and her eyes fixed on the farmhouse.

“She’s roasting her dinner,” Rosalie says quietly. She doesn’t look at us. “I can hear all her movements and smell every single thing she’s preparing. There’s even strawberry shortcake and that’s my favourite, but I don’t want any of it. Nothing smells as good as her blood, and her heartbeat sounds like a song.” Her hands curl into fists. “I’m not human anymore.”

“Oh Rosalie,” Esme says softly. She makes a move to put an arm around the girl, but Rosalie flinches away.

“Don’t…please don’t touch me.” I can hear the tension in her voice as she holds herself under iron control. “I suppose _he_ knows why I ran,” she adds, flicking her eyes towards Edward.

“I threw the roses away,” I say steadily. “I would not knowingly do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable in our home, and it won’t happen again. I know you have no reason to trust us Rosalie, but I assure you we had nothing to do with what happened to you. It was nothing more than coincidence that I was passing by and smelled your blood and found you when I did. I would have taken you to the hospital but it would have done no good. No doctor or surgeon could have done anything to heal your injuries, and so I brought you home.” 

Rosalie breathes deeply, drawing the human scent deeply into her lungs. I see the spasm of pain cross her face as the intensity of her desire flares, but she doesn’t even lean towards it. “And this…it can’t be undone?”

“No.” I look at her, and I think she can probably see the sorrow and regret clearly in my face before she turns away from me again.

“I could stand next to her and not kill her,” Rosalie says dispassionately, looking towards the farmhouse. “Do they all smell the same? I need to try with more of them.”

“You don’t need to rush,” Esme says gently.

At the same time Edward scowls at Rosalie and says, “You can’t go into town on your own. Don’t be ridiculous. Resisting a single human is one thing, but crowds are completely different. You’re still a newborn and…”

Rosalie bristles. “Don’t call me a baby, and get the hell out of my head! I don’t care what you say, I want to.”

One step forward, two steps back…I wish I knew how to connect with this girl! “Rosalie,” I say gently. “If you want to see how well you can control yourself around humans we will help you find ways to do that, but please try and understand that it’s not as simple as walking into town in the middle of the afternoon. You can’t be seen, and we have to be prepared to stop you, because you really are pushing yourself quite hard. Edward doesn’t mean to call you a baby, but in vampire terms you’re still a newborn.”

Rosalie rolls her eyes, but at least she doesn’t shout at me. Instead she sighs and wraps her arms around herself as she turns and begins walking back to the house. “I hate you all.” It’s barely more than a whisper, and it seems prudent to pretend not to hear.

“Come back to the house,” I say, remembering that as well as Esme’s flowers I bought gifts for the others as well. “I bought you something.”

That perks Rosalie’s interest, and although her face is expressionless she doesn’t storm off to her room when we reach home, but joins the rest of us in the living room.

“I stopped by the bookstore,” I tell them, dropping a light kiss on Esme’s forehead and smiling at her. “Here you are, my love. The African Queen came in at last, and he had a collection of Eliot poems I thought you might enjoy too. Edward, the latest Agatha Christie, another Poirot mystery. And Rosalie…for you.”

“Thank you,” she says automatically as she accepts the book and box I pass to her, but as she looks at them I see her swallow hard before she looks up at me with a look of surprised and genuine pleasure. “Oh…it really _is_ for me.”

I laugh gently. “Of course it is. I didn’t know what novels you might like, but I thought that would do as well.” It’s a biography of Amy Johnson, the record breaking female aviatrix. The second gift I bought for her is a small model construction kit, an aeroplane. “It’s a replica of the _Spirit of St Louis_ ,” I say to her, watching for her reaction. “I don’t know if you’ve ever made anything like it before, but if you’d like to try it Edward and I would be able to help you if you needed it. If you’re not interested, that’s fine too…”

“No,” Rosalie interrupts, still staring at the box. “I mean…I want to try and make it.” She glances at me, and for a moment the mask drops and my heart catches at the vulnerability exposed on her face as she says a little unsteadily, “Mother always says it isn’t ladylike to be so interested in the aeroplanes and cars, but I always wanted…”

She bites her lip hard, and I know she isn’t going to say anything else. It doesn’t matter though, because I think that my impulsive purchase has touched her in a way that nothing else I have done or said to her has.

“Well, I’m glad you like it,” I say, striving to keep my voice light. “I thought you might enjoy it, and it will give you something to do. I thought it might remind you too, that you don’t have to give up everything Rosalie…you can still keep some of your dreams, even now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Lexiko is the forerunner to Scrabble…it turns out Scrabble as we know it wasn’t invented until 1938. Sorry Cullens, you can’t be playing it yet! Lexiko was invented by the same man and had the same letter tiles and points, but was played without a board.


	10. By Her Hands

Rosalie’s arrival is a like a tornado, blowing into our previously calm and well-ordered life and turning everything upside down. Whilst she has perfect manners and is capable of irresistible charm when she puts her mind to it, she has an explosive temper and her emotional state is as variable as the weather, encompassing rage and despair and amusement and hatred all within the course of a day or even an hour. For Esme, Edward and me, all naturally fairly calm and placid individuals, being in such constant proximity to the emotional whirlwind of Rosalie is sometimes exhausting. Esme bears the heaviest weight of Rosalie’s demands, and I treasure my wife even more for her endless patience and kindness with our newest and most intransigent family member.

As Esme predicted though, there is more to Rosalie than temper. It becomes obvious quite quickly that her mental acuity is impressive. It is not simply the perfect vampire memory either, she has an analytical mind and makes connections and then extrapolates on them with an ease that I know must have been present in her human mind and that I cannot help but admire. Her education has been uneven, lacking in mathematics and the sciences despite her evident flair for these subjects, but she seems determined to fill in these gaps and is already reading and studying with single minded obsessiveness. I offer guidance for her reading and explanations of concepts when she asks for them, and this is the only time she ever seeks out my company. The only time she ever really talks to me at all, if I am honest- she may be settling in to this life but I know she still harbors an intense resentment towards me for bringing her here without her consent.

She doesn’t speak of her human life anymore. At first I like to think that it’s because the human memories are fading and making it easier for her to focus on the future. One day however, I see the sketchbook Esme gave her lying open on the table and realise that Rosalie is clinging to her memories, and if force of will has anything to do with it she will never feel the soothing softening of time on these images of her past. For here is her human life, page after page of sketches, some quick and minimal, some almost photographically detailed, showing all the things that meant something to her in the time before. Her home and parents and friends, flowers and dancing and walking in the park and pretty dresses and knick knacks and girlish frivolity. It is everything we cannot give her.

Just when I think I cannot feel worse I come to the baby. Pages and pages of images of a baby, the same plump little infant with round cheeks and a dimpled, toothless smile and dark curls, chubby starfish hands reaching out and patting a delicate adult hand and grasping at long golden curls. A baby that Rosalie obviously knew well, because the drawings themselves seem to come to life with a tenderness and love that I would have barely believed Rosalie capable of and yet here it is, laid out before me in heartbreaking clarity.

“What are you looking at? That’s private.” Her hand comes down on the book and it’s gone before I can react.

“It was open here on the table,” I say, feeling as though I’ve been caught spying. Which I suppose I have, but it was not intentional. “There are some beautiful drawings in there Rosalie…you’re very talented.”

She shrugs, almost indifferently. “It doesn’t matter anyway…it’s nothing.” And to my despair she tosses the sketchbook into the fire and I watch the flames devour her work, and wish we could eliminate her pain as easily as we have the evidence of her memories.

Rosalie is a restless person, always needing to be _doing_ something and never seeming able to reach a tranquil state of being before she is off seeking new stimulation or occupation or amusement. Any task she undertakes she does with a fierce determination that it will be done faultlessly, and she is intolerant of her own mistakes and any lack of knowledge. She abhors her own weaknesses, and goes to extraordinary lengths to hide anything she deems shameful from the rest of us.

My heart goes out to the way she struggles with herself. Rosalie finds the very idea of hunting detestable and is sickened by her own body’s desire for blood, but the physical exhilaration and the challenges of tracking and stalking and hunting fire her competitive spirit and she loves it. Through Edward we have a window onto her thoughts, for she is a passionately private person and doesn’t share easily, and although he has never been one to tell tales he shares that she is in near constant inner torment over her inability to reconcile the wildly disparate parts of her personality and lifestyle here.

Edward finds her almost unbearable at times. I sympathise with him, for he has made it clear that the intensity of her outbursts reflect the intensity of her inner dialogue and I know he finds the constant mental barrage from her oppressive. At the same time I am sometimes frustrated with his habit of being brusque and dismissive of her, since this only serves to enrage her and cause her to lash out. The two of them spend time together because they are the only company each other has outside Esme and I, but they squabble like children and I sometimes despair of them ever becoming friends. Esme’s previous fond dreams of a romance between the two of them are laughable now.

Rosalie is headstrong and stubborn, about nothing more so than her determination to master her thirst. At her insistence we spend hours each day running to far distant towns so that she might breathe the human scented air and practise looking calm and unconcerned when the heartbeats sound in her ears like the song of a siren. It is only a matter of weeks before she is able to walk sedately amongst humans and betray no sign of her otherness. Her willingness to push herself through discomfort and then pain to reach her goals is admirable, if a little frightening in its intensity.

I would not have it said that she is nothing but a trial and tribulation though. For all she is hard work to accommodate in our family, Rosalie brings with her a fresh viewpoint and bold spirit that I was not even aware we were lacking. She shakes Edward and Esme and me out of the rut of complacency we were in danger of falling into, and raises in us a sense of vitality that we were perhaps missing in our sedate family life prior to her arrival. Rosalie is competitive and loves games, which suits Edward, and she is a welcome feminine companion for Esme when it comes to matters of dress and appearance. The two of them spend many hours leafing through catalogues and talking clothes and accessories. She does not laugh often but when she does it is like the sound that angels must make, and her smile can light up a room with the sheer power of her beauty.

I am writing in my journal one afternoon, reflecting on the recent household changes, when Edward comes to me looking serious although his voice is light as he invites me to go out hunting with him. I am not particularly thirsty but I acquiesce, and the two of us head out at a run.

“You wished to discuss something?” I say eventually, slowing to a walk. Edward’s eyes are pale amber and I know it was not thirst that brought him out here.

“It’s Rosalie,” Edward says slowly. “You know I don’t like to tell tales of what I hear from people’s thoughts Carlisle, but I am very concerned for her.”

“Is it something new?”

“In a way. You know that she has always harboured thoughts of revenge? I’ve spoken to you of that before, but it’s changed recently Carlisle. I believe she’s making plans.” Edward’s face looks bleak, and feel a helpless sense of sickness.

“Are you sure?”

“I think so…yes,” Edward says quietly. “She has always thought of it, but they were just fantasies…now there is a cold edge of reality to what I am hearing from her. She wants them all dead, and she will have it done by her hand.”

“What shall we do?” I stop, and look at Edward despondently. “After what they did to her I’m not sure that they don’t deserve death, but I don’t know that Rosalie putting herself in the position of judge and executioner over them is going to be good for her emotional health in the long term.”

Edward shrugs. “There is no way that they will be brought to justice through legal means Carlisle. I’ve thought about how to do it and researched things at the law library, but without incontrovertible proof it won’t happen. And the only proof we have – Rosalie herself – we can’t use.”

“You think we should just let her wreak her own brand of vengeance then?” I say grimly.

“I don’t know!” Edward rubs his nose in frustration. “Do I think Rosalie turning herself into the killer she hates herself for being is a good thing? No, not really! Do I think it will make her happy to see them suffer at her hands? No, I don’t! But maybe if it won’t bring her happiness it will at least bring her a little peace…and goodness knows if there’s anyone in this world who needs some peace in their heart it’s Rosalie. I don’t like her Carlisle, I’ll be honest about that, but no one deserves to suffer like she did and as she continues to do.”

I know he is right. I too would like to see Rosalie at peace, see the ghosts that haunt her laid to rest, but… “You know how I feel about violence, Edward.”

“I know. But this is different Carlisle, we are not talking about the suffering of the innocent. They committed the inhuman acts, and it’s only right that they should suffer the consequences.”

“I agree,” I say hollowly. “I would be first in line to see them dealt a legal justice Edward…truly I could see them hang for what they did to her! But the idea of Rosalie becoming a cold blooded killer horrifies me. Not only that, it _frightens_ me Edward, it frightens me what she may be capable of becoming.” I turn away from him, shamed by my lack of faith.

“I’ve thought about doing it myself,” Edward says quietly, after a long pause. “When I realised that there was nothing we could do legally, I thought about taking on the role of her avenger…but it wouldn’t work, Carlisle. I’m willing to do it, but Rosalie needs her own revenge. Or at least she _thinks_ she does, which is the same thing at this point.”

“You see no way of talking her out of it?”

“No.”

“Then I see nothing for it but to ensure it is done with as few innocent victims as possible,” I say flatly. “You say she has plans?”

“Yes. Nothing showy or spectacular- she occasionally goes into elaborate detail on _how_ she will kill them _,”_ Edward grimaces, “but she is basically planning on stealth. She has no intention of feeding on them, although I don’t know if she will be capable of resisting the blood when it comes down to it.”

I cannot believe that I am so calmly discussing what amounts to murder with Edward. I am sick at heart at the idea of passively allowing this massacre to take place, and yet I remember the violated and abused girl’s body in the alley, the smell of male release mingling nauseatingly with the sweet scent of her blood as it dripped on to the stones, and I feel again my own burning need for retribution. I will not stop Rosalie. I have already made enough decisions about what I thought was best for this girl, and never have I been so heartbreakingly wrong. Whatever she does from now on in must be her own choice.

“Go with her,” I say steadily to Edward. “I don’t think she will want our help, but I want you to follow her in case she needs you. Keep her safe.”

I meet Edward’s eyes and he nods resolutely. “I will. I’ll follow her and keep her safe…and I’ll bring her home Carlisle,” he adds softly, hearing my unspoken fears. “I’ll bring Rosalie back home.”

 


	11. Salvation

Rosalie doesn’t speak of her plans to anyone. I don’t know if she knows how much Edward hears from her mind or not, but it is only days after Edward speaks to me in the forest that I feel the silence of the house around me at night and I know that they are gone on Rosalie’s bloody errand.

“She’s going to kill them,” I say to Esme, my voice startling in the silence.

Esme nods. “Perhaps it will help her,” she says softly.

“I know they deserve it,” I say bleakly. “But I have seen so much death, and suffering…and I know that revenge will never return to Rosalie what she lost.”

“No, it won’t give her back what she lost,” Esme allows, giving me a long look. “Nothing can do that. But maybe revenge will give Rosalie something new, and maybe that’s what she needs.”

“You know her better than I do,” I say tiredly. “Perhaps you are right. I hope that whatever happens, she is safe.”

Rosalie comes home close to dawn, her face an expressionless mask. She doesn’t speak, but goes to her room and closes the door quietly behind her, and we do not see her for hours. Edward comes home soon afterwards, his face tense.

“It was quick,” he says tonelessly. “He knew her, but she didn’t give him time to scream before she broke his neck. No one else saw either of us at all.”

The next three nights are the same. The days drag by, the house silent and yet feeling almost alive with the violent undercurrents of emotion. Each night Rosalie and Edward disappear, and she kills another with cold, savage efficiency. Rosalie barely speaks, and even Esme’s innate good cheer falters and disappears in the face of such tension as we live under.

The fifth night it ends. It is different this time, as Rosalie comes home and stands defiantly in front of Esme and I, a vision of such beauty and horror in the blood spattered wedding gown she wears that I know I shall never forget the sight of her.

“It’s done,” she spits out. “Tonight I killed Royce and now they’re all dead and I’m _glad_. I don’t care what happens to me now.”

She turns on her heels and disappears into her room, and for a long moment Esme and I sit silent, until a groan of despair forces its way out of my chest and I bow my head under the weight of my burden of guilt.

“Esme…what have I done? What will become of her now?”

Esme’s arms go around me, and even as I am surrounded by her softness and the sweetness of her scent I feel a deep stab of grief and responsibility.

“It’s over,” she says quietly. “Whatever you did, or didn’t do…this chapter of our lives is over. We can’t change anything now, my dearest.”

Silently Edward appears in the room, his face agonised. “Esme’s right Carlisle…it’s over.” He shudders. “Thank god!”

Esme reaches an arm out towards Edward and squeezes his hand. “Thank you for watching over her Edward,” she says seriously.

Edward’s face is taut. “I feel it’s only fair to warn you, since you’ll find out eventually…it was Royce King tonight, and it was not quick and it was not neat.” Edward shudders. “He knew she was coming for him, and he’d locked himself away with two guards to protect him…for all the good it did! It just meant that two innocent men died tonight so that Rosalie could get to him. The animal deserved every torturous minute she put him through, but oh…” Edward shudders, and the idea of what he must have heard from that man’s mind in the hour of his death repulses me.   

The enormity of the wrong I have done to Rosalie and the consequences of my actions feel as though it cannot be borne. “I should never have done it,” I say brokenly. “I believed I was saving her Esme…but I have done nothing but exacerbate her pain. She now faces immortality as a creature she detests, and after tonight she will now bear the burden of having killed for eternity…”

“Oh my love, please don’t…” Distressed, Esme kisses my bowed head. “You _did_ save her. She would have died if it weren’t for you, and I can’t believe that she would rather be dead than having the chance to live as she is now.”

“I became a doctor to heal, to do good…not to play God!”

“Carlisle,” Edward says in a low voice. “You must stop this. How many times have you told me that we cannot change the past? That we must not dwell on what can’t be changed, but accept the lessons and strive to do better in the future? Agonising over what could have been with Rosalie will get you nowhere!”

“You must have faith,” Esme says tenderly, her lips in my hair. “You have always believed that life is precious, and you gave Rosalie life. Like all of us, she must take the hand she’s been dealt and do the best she can with what she has…and I believe in her Carlisle.”

I look at Esme, at the faith and love that shine from her sweet smile and golden eyes, and tenderly touch her lips with my fingertips. “What would I do without you?” I glance across at Edward, including him in my love and affection for my family. “How did I live alone so long without my family?”

“You spent far too long in maudlin contemplation I expect,” Esme says with a gentle laugh, before she turns serious again. “Dearest, I know how you struggle with faith and belief…but I know your heart. Edward does too, and I believe that underneath it all Rosalie also sees you for what you truly are. You have a pure heart Carlisle Cullen, and when the time comes that you stand before God he will see you for what you have always striven to be.”

“I shouldn’t have turned Rosalie,” I say, softly but steadily. “I was made arrogant and careless by the success of you two…not only that I changed you successfully but that you both turned out to be just what I needed in my life and neither of you have hated or resented me for what I did to you without your consent. As for Rosalie…I cannot undo it, she is one of us now and I have dedicated myself to doing what I can for her, but I will not do it again. This life of immortality…it is not a gift I should give.”

“I think that is wise,” Edward says quietly.

“Be hopeful for Rosalie too,” Esme says. “I believe that she can come through this, stronger and better than before. She does not always show us her best side, but there is a great deal of promise in the girl. I have said it before Carlisle, I want her to stay, I want to see her fulfil her potential…you have given her the chance to do that.”

What choice do I have, but to accept the love and belief in me my beloved wife and my first companion, my almost-son, offer me? They say only what I have always said to them, and if I have felt my faith slipping through my fingers in the face of Rosalie’s agonised wrath then it is up to me to find it again and hold it tight so that I might guide and protect and keep this family that I have created together.

Esme and I step quietly into Rosalie’s room. She has changed from the wedding gown she wore on her killing errand and is lying curled into herself on the bed in a flowered dress and bare feet, her hair falling across the pillow in rumpled waves. She doesn’t turn at our entrance so I walk around to the other side of the bed so I can see her face, and as she looks up at me with eyes beginning to take on the amber streaks reflecting her animal blood diet I think that I have never seen her look so young and vulnerable. Too weary for anything but a bleak, numb unhappiness she looks up at me, and all I can feel for her is sorrow.

“It’s done now,” she says tonelessly.

“It is.” Impulsively I crouch down beside the bed so I can look her into the eye. Our gazes meet and I wish I could read her…does she want approbation or castigation? Or is this fiercely private, independent girl seeking absolution as she stares at me so imploringly? “And now it’s over, Rosalie.”

Of course part of me knows that it will never really be over, not for Rosalie. She will live immortality with a profoundly personal knowledge of evil, and her vampire birth will have always taken place amongst the ashes of the brutal destruction of her human life and innocence. But for all that…

“You need to let it go now,” I tell her softly. “You need to turn your thoughts from revenge and towards healing Rosalie. They cannot hurt you anymore, and you have made it such that they cannot hurt anyone else either. Now you need to think about yourself. You deserve to be happy, you deserve to make yourself a good life…now it is time for you to concentrate on that.”

She doesn’t answer, but her eyes flick down to something concealed in her hands. Even as her eyes look blankly past me she opens her fingers and I see that she is cradling the model aeroplane she built, her hands holding it almost reverently. I remember when I gave it to her, telling her that she could still hold on to some of her human dreams and the fact that she’s holding it here makes me feel sure that we have not lost her. Frightened, confused and angry she might be, but there is a streak of resilience and she will come back from this.

 My surety is shaken over the next week though, as Rosalie stays in her room without speaking or hunting or moving and the aftermath of her slayings makes itself known. The city is in an uproar over the string of murders, and speculation and gossip is rife. It was well known that Royce King Junior was Rosalie Hale’s fiancé and that she is still missing in mysterious circumstances, and this only provides fodder for the more outrageous stories being passed around. I cease bringing the newspapers into the house, not wanting Rosalie to see what is being written about what she did, if she should rouse herself enough to read the lurid tales.

“That’s it.” I am shocked one night as Esme slams a book down on the table where I am sitting and staring blankly at an empty journal page, the noise and vibrations making me jump. “I’ve had quite enough.”

“My love?” I look at her enquiringly.

She is frowning at me with uncharacteristic ferocity. “I’m sorry Carlisle, but something must be done. I can’t live like this any longer! Rosalie up there, doing whatever it is she thinks she’s doing; you down here so riddled with guilt and doubt that you’re unable to move forward; Edward moping around under the weight of all those painful thoughts…” She flashes him a brief and sympathetic smile. “ _Something_ has to change.”

 _Oh, my darling wife…_ “What do you suggest?” I know that she is right. None of us can continue to live under this cloud.

Edward, who has been reading at the table beside me, looks affectionately at Esme. “Do you think she’ll agree?”

Esme puts her hands on her hips. “Frankly I don’t care if she does or not. There are three of us and one of her- newborn strength or not Rosalie will do what she’s told for once, even if it takes physical force to make her!” She chuckles as she looks at my mystified face. “We’re all going to take a trip, Carlisle. We need something new…new places, new people, new amusements. Rosalie needs something to take her mind off all she feels she has lost, and what better way to do that than to give her the world?”

I can feel my heart lightening and my face smiling in response. “Take her travelling…I think it’s a wonderful idea, my love.”

Esme is beaming. “I knew you’d like it. I thought we should take her to Europe- I know she hasn’t been there before and it’s so full of wonderful places and beautiful things it will suit Rosalie down to the ground. And really, she’s worked so hard to master the thirst and she’d done so extraordinarily well! Her motives may not have been the best, but I think she could be rewarded for her effort.” She cups my face with her soft hands and kisses me. “I think we need to show her what is out there, what is possible for her future…she has so much potential, and there are so many wonderful experiences that could be waiting for her if she will only open herself up to them!”

I clasp Esme’s hands and smile at her. They consider me the head of this family, but Esme is the heart and we would be nothing without her. Edward and I were companions and friends before, but it was only the advent of Esme that made us a family. And it is this family that is going to be Rosalie’s salvation. “I can’t think of anything better,” I say sincerely.

I don’t know what Esme says to Rosalie or how she manages it, but a week later we leave our home in the dark of night with suitcases packed, and Rosalie is with us. As dawn streaks the sky I find myself standing on the deck of a ship watching New York Harbor recede in the distance, a silent Rosalie by my side. A sudden gust of wind snatches the hat from her head and sends it swirling through the air, and much to my surprise she laughs. It is the first sound I have heard from her in over a week, and I look at her with an answering smile.

“I’m glad we’re going away,” she tells me, as if she had never stopped speaking in the first place. “I think it will be good…” For a moment she looks ashamed. “I know you don’t agree with what I did,” she says rapidly, her voice low. “I know you hate it and I don’t want to talk about it really either, but I just wanted you to know that it really is over now. I’m not…I won’t do anything like that again, you understand? It’s time for me to look forward, as you said.”

I nod thoughtfully, and smile at her gently. “I do understand Rosalie, and I’m glad. I hope you enjoy our travels, and perhaps come to see how much of the world and the experiences it offers are still yours for the taking.” I glance up at the sky. “Now, we should perhaps go down below before this sun comes out and we start attracting too much attention.”

Esme and Edward are relaxing together in our cabin, playing a game of cribbage at the tiny table bolted to the floor and teasing each other. I run my hands across the back of Esme’s neck and she pats my hand absently, before I take a seat in one of the armchairs and find my book.

Rosalie digs through her bag and I am a little surprised when she takes out the leather bound journal I gave her and takes a seat in the armchair opposite me, balancing it on her knees as she uncaps her pen. As far as I am aware she has not written in the journal prior to now, and this is confirmed when she opens to the first, pristine page. For a long time she doodles, an elaborate page border of swirls and flowers and flourishes, and when Esme asks her if she’d like to take her place in the game and play Edward I think she won’t write anything at all. But Rosalie smiles to herself and in her pretty, girlish script writes a few lines before she drops the journal onto her seat and moves towards Edward with a teasing quip.

I know that leaving the book open as she did was Rosalie’s way of offering to share her thoughts, and I cannot resist leaning over to see what she wrote.

_I am Rosalie Lilian Hale. Whatever else I might be, and I am many things, I will always be that – I will always be me. Because there are some things that no one can ever take away from you._

Esme stops in front of me, and I impulsively pull her on to my lap and kiss the back of her neck, right at the hairline where her own delicious scent lingers so strongly. “Thank you,” I murmur, resting my forehead against hers and looking into her familiar, beloved golden eyes.

“For what?”

“For being you,” I answer with a laugh, not wanting to say more in front of Edward and Rosalie, knowing that Esme will hear and understand the unspoken. “For making this a family.”

“We are a family, aren’t we?” Esme says reflectively. “A very odd one I sometimes think…and yet look at what we’ve all come to mean to each other.” She shakes her head as she glances at Edward and Rosalie, and then smiles down at me with great tenderness. “If you had nothing else in your life to be proud of Carlisle, if you had done nothing else but create this family…well, you could still be proud of this.”

I am not sure that I would call what I feel pride. Certainly, I am proud of them, of us, and the way we have all taken this difficult life and created something beautiful from it. More than pride though, I feel a deep and abiding sense of gratitude that I have found this family, found these people who are willing to share their respect and friendship and even love with me, when for a long time I felt as though I deserved nothing of such goodness. I am so thankful that I have been able to maintain my essential humanity even in the face of the insidious dark gift that was bestowed upon me, because it is the very human bonds of love and family that will make my immortality worth living and offer salvation to us all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N – Well, that’s the end of that! Rosalie is more or less settled (although she won’t be really happy until she finds her Emmett) and Carlisle is not being consumed by guilt (although again, he will feel guilty about changing Rosalie until she finds her Emmett and becomes happy…Emmett really does solve a lot of problems for them!)  
> I wrote about their trip to Europe in Someone to Vote No- the chapter that’s set in Volterra, if anyone hasn’t read it and is curious about it.  
> As always, thanks for messages and reviews, and for everyone who takes the time to read...I really do appreciate it more than I can say.


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